


Fade to Grey

by LegitimateTrash



Category: GOT7
Genre: Fainting, Low Blood Pressure, M/M, Sunshine Youngjae, everyone loves mark, jinyoung is a mom, sick mark, this is not medically accurate don't quote me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegitimateTrash/pseuds/LegitimateTrash
Summary: “Mark-hyung?” Jinyoung calls, as he steps into the room.The colour drains from Mark’s face before he can even look up, and then he’s falling, falling, falling. Jinyoung sprints, and just manages to wrap his arms around Mark’s middle before the older boy has a chance to faceplant on the wood floor. He grunts with the effort, but lowers Mark gently, turning him on his back.Jinyoung’s heart races as he pats the older boy’s cheeks in an attempt to rouse him.What the hell.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang, background JJP - Relationship
Comments: 98
Kudos: 316





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I took creative liberties so this is probably very medically inaccurate but?? oh well.

_August 2013_

Jinyoung sighs as he walks down the company hallway. Yugyeom had been grating on his nerves all day, and all he really wants to do is curl up with a good book and block out the world. Unfortunately though, Jaebeom asked him to round up everyone for a group meeting, and the other half of JJ Project could ask him to jump off a cliff, and he wouldn’t do it (because he’s not actually an idiot) but he’d highly consider it. 

So here he is, trying to track down the final member, the eldest, instead of reading, like he wants to. 

He can hear American music coming from the dance room down at the end of the hall, and figures it’s a good guess. He pushes open the door and his suspicions are confirmed when he spots Mark in the room alone, practicing his martial arts tricking. He pauses for a moment, just to watch, because Jinyoung is talented- he knows he is, what with his dancing, singing, rapping and acting- but he could never do what Mark does, never cut through the air with that much precision or control. 

Mark lands a complicated back handspring and lets out a noise of success, Jinyoung’s own eyes crinkling at the sight. Until Mark suddenly closes his eyes and grips at his head, swaying dangerously. 

“Mark-hyung?” Jinyoung calls, as he steps into the room. 

The colour drains from Mark’s face before he can even look up, and then he’s falling, falling, falling. Jinyoung sprints, and just manages to wrap his arms around Mark’s middle before the older boy has a chance to faceplant on the wood floor. He grunts with the effort, but lowers Mark gently, turning him on his back. 

Jinyoung’s heart races as he pats the older boy’s cheeks in an attempt to rouse him. 

_What the hell._

He should be reading, not fucking saving Mark’s life or some shit. 

“Hyung,” Jinyoung pleads, voice coming out choked and weird. It doesn’t feel real, like he’s maybe caught in the daydream of an intrusive thought.

He blinks, hoping that when he opens his eyes he’ll be back in the doorway, watching Mark, but he's not, and it’s nearing twenty seconds since Mark lost consciousness. Jinyoung grabs the nearest water bottle, sprinkling some on the boy’s face, deciding that if this doesn’t work he’s going to get help.

Thankfully, Mark groans and turns his head away from the water, his eyelids fluttering open. He’s squinting up at Jinyoung like he doesn’t quite recognize him.

“Oh thank god,” Jinyoung breathes out, his shoulders slumping in relief. The music had gone quiet before, a distant echo in the midst of Jinyoung’s worry, but it’s back in full force now, the bassline thumming against his skin.

Mark groans again, curling in on himself, and Jinyoung rubs the boy’s arm gently. “Hey, it’s okay, you just passed out, but you’re fine.”

Mark simply nods, not seeming nearly as fazed as he should be after just being told he fainted. In fact, he looks mildly annoyed, covering his face with his hands so Jinyoung can’t look at him.

“Can you get my backpack Jinyoung-ah?” Mark mumbles from behind his hands.

Wordlessly, Jinyoung gets up and drags Mark’s bag closer, handing it over. Mark sits up slowly and unzips the front section of his bag, pulling out a weird velcro pump thing. He glances up at Jinyoung sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that,” he says, “I’m, uh, fine now though, you can leave.”

Jinyoung most certainly does _not_ leave and instead sits perfectly still in front of Mark and stares. 

Mark looks away from Jinyoung’s intense gaze, his chest moving up and down quickly. He swallows thickly. “Did you... uhm, come in there for something?”

“Group meeting,” Jinyoung replies dazedly, having completely forgotten his reason for coming. 

Mark nods and fidgets, breathing heavy. “Cool. You can go ahead and I’ll catch up, just give me a few minutes.”

Jinyoung snaps out of his daze and gives Mark a scathing look. Like hell is he leaving.

Mark sighs at the look, but he has bigger fish to fry, and re-focuses on the item in his hands, slipping it on his left arm and then pumping the tube attached to it until the cuff around his bicep is tight. After a few seconds the machine beeps and Mark cranes his head down to look at the numbers on the cuff. 

Jinyoung looks too, but it’s kind of pointless, because he can read the two little numbers, but he has no idea what they mean. Mark obviously does though and he curses quietly. “Can you text Jaebeom?” Mark asks, not making eye contact with Jinyoung. Jinyoung guesses that if his skin wasn’t so pale right now, Mark might’ve been blushing out of embarrassment. “Just tell him something came up and I can’t go to the meeting.”

Jinyoung pulls out his phone, about to do exactly what Mark requested before he pauses.

“No.”

Mark snaps his eyes up to Jinyoung. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting a protest.

“Nyoungie…”

Jinyoung shakes his head, “You know what, why don’t you tell me what’s going on, because you just _passed out_ and yet you seem pretty fucking calm about the whole thing.”

Mark shrugs one shoulder, his eyes shifting around the room. “Just forgot to eat breakfast,” he supplies quietly.

Jinyoung scrunches his eyebrows together. Normally Mark doesn’t lie, and when he does, he’s at least better at it. “I watched you inhale like three plates of eggs this morning,” Jinyoung points out, the statement sounding more like an accusation than anything. He softens his glare. “Look I’m just worried, okay? What’s with the medical equipment?” he asks, gesturing to Mark’s arm.

Mark sighs. He grabs the water bottle and takes a long sip, gathering the thoughts in his head. “I have this thing,” he starts, staring resolutely at the floor. “Um... a condition. Hypotension. It means low blood pressure.”

Low blood pressure? Jinyoung’s no medic by any means, but he thought low blood pressure was a good thing?

Mark looks up long enough to see the confusion on Jinyoung’s face and he sighs again. “It’s complicated, and I’m too tired to explain anything right now. Why don’t you go meet the others before they get mad at you for being late.”

The upbeat music contrasts with the seriousness of the situation. It’s driving Jinyoung crazy. He stands up suddenly and turns the dial on the radio all the way down, plunging the room into thick silence. He rounds back on Mark, but the silence doesn’t seem to hang over him like it does Jinyoung, and the younger boy immediately regrets turning off the music, longing for some distraction. 

He just... doesn’t understand how Mark is so calm about all of this. 

“You’re, like, okay though, right?”

Mark gives him a half smile. “It’s not a big deal,” he assures, “I can normally manage it on my own, I just forgot to take my meds this morning. I’ll just go back to my room and get some sleep.”

Jinyoung pushes down the ugly thoughts of _why didn’t you tell us, don’t you trust us,_ to think rationally. He squints at Mark. “Hyung, we’ve gotta let the managers know and get you checked over just in case, I mean you were out for a good twenty seconds.”

Mark's eyes widen and he reaches out a hand to grab Jinyoung’s arm from his seated position. “Managers? No, no, no. You can’t tell the company about any of this.”

“You mean they _don’t know_?” Jinyoung exclaims incredulously.

Mark’s grip on Jinyoung’s wrist is tight even though his hand is still shaking. His dark eyes are serious. “No, they don’t. And you’re not going to tell them, or else they might not let me debut.”

Jinyoung is a calm person, but there’s only so much new information he can handle in one day. “What the fuck…”

“Jinyoungie please,” Mark pleads, looking increasingly anxious, eyes flitting around the room like someone will barge in right now and drag him away.

“What did your parents say?” Jinyoung asks, needing some confirmation that Mark isn’t a complete masochist. That he hasn’t been training while hiding a condition that was unknown to everyone. Surely someone knows. Their team medic, or Mark’s favourite makeup noona, or _Jackson_. Someone.

Mark winces guiltily. “They think I told the company already. They think you guys all know too.” His face hardens, all sharp features, and he speaks with uncontained emotion. “But I can’t, Jinyoung, this is my dream. I left my home for this, travelled to a different country, worked my ass off, and I will _not_ let some condition stop me from making my dreams come true.”

It might be the most that Jinyoung has heard Mark speak in one go, and while normally he stumbles over words and mispronounces things, it’s like the pure anger Mark feels burnt through the language barrier, because his Korean is immaculate.

He’s still an idiot though.

Jinyoung shrugs his wrist out of Mark’s grip and turns away, pacing the room. He’s mad, and confused, and he just wants Mark to stop looking so damn _pale_. 

Time to bring out actor Jinyoung. Cue the dramatics.

“What the fuck makes you think I’ll listen to you? You’re putting not only your career at stake, but your _life_. What if I hadn’t been there to catch you? You could’ve smashed your head open or worse.”

Mark brushes him off, still small and still on the floor. “Trainees pass out all the time. I wasn’t the first and I won’t be the last.”

Jinyoung’s resolve is strong. He will _not_ stand by and let his friend be hurt.

Mark must see that, because he staggers to his feet, his breath quickening. “Oh god, you’re going to tell, aren’t you?”

It seems like Mark has used up all his Korean because he starts mumbling in panicked English. “Might as well start packing now. What am I gonna tell BamBam? What am I gonna tell _Jackson_? I said I’d always be there for him, fuck. And mom, god, she’ll be so disappointed-

“Hyung-”

Mark’s eyes are unfocused, his voice coming out a breathy whisper. “And high school, shit, I’m so behind, Dad was right I shouldn’t have dropped out-”

“Mark-hyung!” Jinyoung yells, his voice cutting through Mark’s panic. The numbers on Mark’s pressure cuff are steadily dropping lower, and Jinyoung isn’t a doctor, but even he knows that that’s bad. The eldest is working himself up, and Jinyoung is scared he’s gonna pass out again so he says something dumb.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Mark looks up at him, relief shining in his eyes. “Promise?”

This is a bad idea. He’s going to regret this. 

“Promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

_August 2013_

Jinyoung keeps his promise. 

He spends the entire week after he finds out glued to his phone, searching causes and symptoms and cures. 

Google tells him that Mark is dying, if not already dead, so no surprise there.

_

It’s two weeks later when Jinyoung finally brings it up again. They’re at the park, just the two of them, and it’s dark out, almost curfew, but they’re not in any rush. Mark is pumping his legs on the swing, trying to go higher, and Jinyoung is swinging lazily, feet barely off the ground. 

“I was on WebMD,” Jinyoung throws out, conversationally.

Mark scrunches his nose up. “Who’s dying?” he asks around a mouth full of chocolate ice cream.

Jinyoung licks his own ice cream. “You, apparently.”

Mark’s laugh is high pitched and loud and Jinyoung smiles despite himself. 

“Really,” Mark assures, “I’m fine. I’m just grateful you didn’t get weird on me or anything, you should’ve seen how my best friend from back home reacted.”

“Why, did he cry?”

Mark grins. “Way worse. _He_ fainted.”

And Jinyoung laughs, because that’s exactly his sense of humor, and Mark knows it.

_

_September 2013_

Jinyoung doesn’t mean to get closer to Mark, it just sort of happens. He feels this need to watch over him, because he’s the only one that knows about Mark’s situation, and he wants to help as much as possible. But they click, too. Mark is clever and quiet, a calming presence when everything else gets too loud. Mark helps him with English and Jinyoung helps Mark with Korean, and soon they're spending most of their free time together.

People notice, sure, but no one says anything, not really, until they do.

“Do you like Mark-hyung or something?” Jaebeom asks Jinyoung one day, dark eyes staring into him.

_Like?_ Jinyoung has never straight up told Jaebeom about his sexuality, but Jaebeom is perceptive, so it’s not like Jinyoung should really be that surprised. The question, though, it kind of came out of left field. “No?” Jinyoung says, half asking, his mind still reeling that _Jaebeom knows I’m gay and he doesn't care, he knows, holy shit-_ “Why?”

Jaebeom’s jaw tightens. “I don’t know, you just seem pretty chummy with him lately, is all.”

“We’re gonna be in a group together,” Jinyoung points out, slightly confused, “Don’t you want us to be chummy?”

Jaebeom sighs. “Yeah, I guess, but you’re always bringing him water and working out with him and I don’t know...” he trails off, his voice sounding suspiciously whiny.

Jinyoung smiles, catching on to what’s happening, his heart beating fast even as he teases, “Is someone jealous?” 

Jaebeom’s mouth drops open in mock shock, even though Jinyoung’s hit the nail on the head. “Me? Jealous? Of course not, it’s just…” he looks at the ground, voice lowering to a mumble, “It’s been a while since _we’ve_ hung out.”

Jinyoung feels warm all over at the fact that Jaebeom misses him, wants to spend more time with him. He ignores it, chalks it up to already knowing the older boy for four years and offers Jaebeom a soft smile. “You’ll always be my best friend, you know me better than anyone. But I have other friends too, and Mark-hyung is really great. I just gotta look out for him, you know?”

And Jaebeom doesn’t know- all he sees is Jinyoung’s arm wrapped around someone else’s shoulder, someone that used to be him- but he trusts the other more than anything, so he nods. 

Jinyoung rewards him with another crinkly eyed smile. “After our studio session how about we go to the library?”

Jaebeom knows he’s falling when he thinks that those might be his two favourite things in this world; the library and Jinyoung.

_

Really, there should be a club or something for people suddenly getting pissy about Jinyoung and Mark, because it happens again the next day.

“Hey, Jae-hyung, Younghyun and I are going to sneak out later tonight and go see that new horror movie, wanna come?” Jackson grins, whispering to Mark during vocal practice. 

Mark takes his eyes away from where Youngjae is belting out notes. He gives Jackson a smile, already halfway to nodding before he has to stop and shake his head. “I’m probably just going to crash with Jinyoungie. You should go though.”

Jackson clicks his tongue in disappointment. “We’ll be careful,” he urges, “I swear no one will hear us. C’mon, we can go get cheeseburgers or hotpot or whatever you want.”

Mark flicks Jackson’s thigh. “Next time,” he promises. 

“You said that last time,” Jackson recalls, frowning. “ _And_ the time before that. You know if I’m annoying you, you can just tell me, you don’t have to keep avoiding me.” His words are cold but Mark can see the genuine hurt swimming in his friend’s eyes.

Mark scrambles to explain. “You’re not annoying me I swear, I just…” he sighs, biting his lip, “I told Jinyoung I’d help him with something.”

Jackson grumbles something under his breath, not meant to be heard, but Mark hears it anyway. “What was that?”

Jackson huffs. “What’s so great about Jinyoung anyway? You’re always with him.”

Mark raises his eyebrows. “So I’m not allowed to have other friends now?”

Great. Now Jackson sounds like a jealous girlfriend. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he groans. “Just come out with me tonight, I’m sure Jinyoung can get someone else to help.”

Mark hesitates, and Jackson brings out his puppy dog eyes, blinking up at Mark. “Pleaseee?”

Mark is crumbling, his eyes softening. There is almost nothing in this world he wouldn’t give to Jackson, especially when he uses his puppy dog eyes. Mark wants to say yes so badly, but his blood pressure has been low all day, and he knows he can’t afford to stay out late and ruin his sleep schedule again. Still though, maybe just this once…

He suddenly gets an image of himself passing out in front of Jackson, and shivers a bit, snapping out of it. “I’m sorry,” he offers Jackson instead, looking at him sadly.

Jackson rolls his eyes. “You always are. Whatever, it’s fine, you have fun with him tonight.” He gets up and sits closer to Jaebeom, watching the elder scribble down song lyrics. 

Mark’s stomach twists, and every part of his body yells at him to call Jackson back, to say he’ll go. 

He doesn’t.

_

Later that night, at the dorms, when Mark has his head on Jinyoung’s lap and Jinyoung has a book in his hands, he starts to imagine what Jackson and Young K are getting up to. Jae probably managed to sneak them some beer too. He wants to be there.

His shoulders start to shake and he wills them to stop, but they don’t, and soon Jinyoung is peering down at him through his glasses, frowning. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Mark sniffles and buries his head further into Jinyoung’s lap. With a sigh, the younger boy puts down his book and starts to run his hand through Mark’s hair. He doesn’t push, knowing Mark will talk when he's ready.

Mark wipes at his eyes. “I’m being a shit friend to Jackson, and I know it, and he knows it, but I can’t do anything.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not a bad friend,” Jinyoung says, messing up Mark’s soft hair.

“I am,” Mark insists, squeezing his eyes shut, “I never do things with him anymore and I’m always lying or hiding stuff from him.” 

Jinyoung knows Mark well enough to read between the lines. “I still think you should tell him, you know. He’d understand.”

And knowing Jackson he probably would. But he also has a big fucking mouth, and Mark doesn’t want to be the fresh gossip, not when the managers will inevitably find out and it could jeopardize his position here.

Under those worries though, Mark just doesn’t want to burden anyone else. It’s bad enough that Jinyoung knows, but having Jackson know? He’d waste too much energy worrying about Mark and not enough worrying about himself. Jackson has enough problems on his own, he doesn’t need Mark adding his to the pile.

Mark doesn’t say anything else, and Jinyoung goes back to reading, keeping one hand combing through Mark’s hair. After a while, the tears finally dry, and Mark lets out a deep breath, pulling his head out of Jinyoung's lap.

He stumbles when he gets up, and Jinyoung can see him pause as he waits for the lightheadedness to pass. 

“Hyung?”

“I’m fine,” Mark brushes him off, “Just a headache. I’m gonna take my meds and then go to bed.”

“You should tell them,” Jinyoung calls out, just as Mark is leaving. 

Mark sighs, and makes a silent plea to anyone who might be listening, that when he wakes up tomorrow he’s somehow miraculously cured. But there’s no flash of lightning, or strike of thunder to show that some divine mercy has answered his prayers, so he shuts Jinyoung’s door with a slam.

“I know.”

_

Jinyoung’s promise lasts for a whole four months before everything goes up in smoke. 

_ 

_December 2013_

The city flies past BamBam, and he watches, basking in the quiet that he rarely lets happen. He’s in the passenger seat, Mark driving, and it’s just the two of them, coming back after attending a Korean language class. 

“Hyung, the speed limit on here is eighty,” BamBam points out, glancing out the window at a passing road sign.

Mark nods from the driver's seat. “Yeah.”

BamBam quirks an eyebrow. “You’re only going sixty.”

“Oh,” Mark shakes his head as if trying to clear it. “Sorry, I’m just a little distracted I guess.”

Mark tries to focus on the road, but it’s harder than normal. Sweat drips down the back of his neck and he can feel himself getting dizzy.

He really really really _really_ does not want to do this, but if anything were to happen to BamBam and it was his fault, Mark would never forgive himself. Flicking on his signal, he reluctantly coasts over to the shoulder of the road, pulling over into the gravel so he’s far out of the way.

BamBam’s eyebrows scrunch up. “Why did we pull over?”

Mark puts on his four way flashers and tries to keep the dizziness at bay. “I just need a second,” he says, trying to give what he hopes is a reassuring smile. He cranks open the window and leans his head back on the seat. “Need some air,” he mumbles.

BamBam feels bad for not noticing before, because now that he really looks at Mark, the older boy is pale and his breathing is a little unsteady. 

“Hyung,” BamBam worries anxiously, sitting up in his seat, “You look kinda sick, do you want my water?”

Mark takes the water BamBam passes him wordlessly. His hands shake as he opens the cap, and a little sloshes out when he brings it up to his lips. His fingers start to feel numb, almost like pins and needles, and it’s a telltale sign; he’s got no choice. 

He makes sure to keep his voice even. “Bam, I need you to call Jinyoung, okay?”

BamBam is already pulling out his phone though he doesn’t know why yet. “What’s happening?”

He doesn’t get an answer though, because Mark suddenly slumps to the side, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and the water bottle dropping from his hands and spilling into his lap, seeping into the seats.

There’s a pause, where BamBam holds his breath, waiting for Mark to spring up and point out a camera and tell him this was all some sort of twisted prank.

He swallows, and Mark doesn’t move, his skin growing paler by the second. 

BamBam jolts, the severity of the situation finally sinking in and he shakes Mark roughly, patting his cheeks. When that doesn’t work he even screams, thinking maybe the sound will wake him up. Nothing. 

BamBam takes a deep breath, swears in every language he knows, and presses dial.

_“Hey Bam, you guys on your way back?”_

“Jinyoung-hyung?” BamBam asks, voice breaking like it does when he’s trying not to cry.

Even through the phone, Jinyoung’s maternal instincts are going haywire. _“What’s wrong?”_

“Mark-hyung was feeling sick, so we pulled over, and then he told me to call you and he just passed out and I can’t get him to wake up,” BamBam explains, speaking quickly.

_“Where are you, are you close to the dorms?”_

“We’re not close I don’t think, I uhm... I don’t know the road name, it’s the one with the big trees on the side and the weird grey building and-”

Jinyoung knows from experience (and google) how serious Mark’s condition can get, how ugly this can turn. But he also knows that BamBam is only sixteen and scared out of his mind, fumbling over words to describe what’s happening while Mark -strong, resilient Mark- lies unconscious next to him.

Breathe.

_“Okay. Okay, I know you’re scared Bam, but you need to be strong for me and for Mark-hyung. Can you do that?”_

BamBam makes a noise over the phone and Jinyoung can practically see him nodding before the younger boy manages, “Yes.”

“ _Does Mark have his backpack with him?_ ” It’s almost a rhetorical question, because Mark never goes anywhere without it, the old black bag always filled with snacks that he refuses to share. 

_“There should be a pressure cuff in the front pocket, it’s grey and has velcro with a pump attached, you’ll know it when you see it.”_

He hears BamBam rustling around and then the sound of a zipper and, “I’ve got it.” BamBam does actually recognize it when he sees it, but he still clings to the phone, looking for guidance. “What now?”

_“Now you put it on him. Have you ever used one before?”_

“No, but I’ve seen it in movies.”

_“Well it's pretty much the same thing. Just slip it on his arm and pump the little ball thing until it’s tight, then wait for it to beep.”_

BamBam does as he’s told and there’s heavy silence on both ends while they wait and Jinyoung paces the dorm. A small beep echoes over the phone and BamBam speaks up. “70/50. What does that mean?”

Fuck. Jinyoung is so out of his depth right now. _“That means you have to call an ambulance.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts so far??


	3. Chapter 3

Jinyoung manages to round up all the members and get them in a taxi headed to the hospital with minimal information. Just that Mark had passed out and was getting looked over. When they tumble into the waiting room, BamBam is in a state.

He’s crying, hands wrapped around himself, looking so small in the big white building. Yugyeom surges forward and wraps BamBam in a hug, practically crushing him. BamBam clings on tight. 

Jaebeom comes over, placing a hand on BamBam’s shoulder. “You’re okay.” His voice is steady, calm, and BamBam finds himself wanting to believe it even though he’s still freaking out.

“Jaebeom-hyung I don’t even know why he passed out, everything happened so quickly,” he rambles, “If I had my license then I could’ve driven Mark-hyung to the hospital and he would’ve got here faster and-”

JB shakes his head. “This could’ve happened when he was with any one of us, you did your best.”

BamBam’s tears keep coming, and Yugyeom squeezes his hand in support. “But I didn’t even know what to do, Jinyoung-hyung was so calm and he was the one that talked me through it.” 

BamBam holds Yugyeom’s hand so tight that it must hurt, but the younger doesn’t say anything. “And Mark-hyung didn't wake up the entire time in the ambulance, and the paramedics wouldn’t tell me what’s going on so I don’t even know if he’s okay, and what if- ”

Jaebeom cuts him off, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Hey, none of that. You did good, and Mark-hyung made it here just fine.”

The other part of BamBam’s rambling finally soaks in, and JB pulls back a little, looking at the younger boy. “What did you mean by Jinyoung talked you through it? Talked you through what?”

Jinyoung has been watching from afar, trusting Jaebeom’s strong presence and Yugyeom’s soft eyes to calm BamBam down, but the conversation is nearing uncharted territory and Jinyoung begs BamBam with his eyes to stay quiet.

The younger boy doesn’t catch on. “Well Mark-hyung had this weird cuff thing in his bag and Jinyoung-hyung told me where to find it and how to put it on and everything.”

Jaebeom, sharp as ever, pulls away from BamBam and rounds on Jinyoung. “What’s he talking about?” he demands, “Why does Mark-hyung have medical equipment?”

Jinyoung winces, glancing around the waiting room, trying to keep his voice quiet. “I can’t tell you everything, but Mark-hyung has a condition,” he says slowly, “I found out a while ago and I thought he had it covered, but I guess it’s more serious than I realized.”

Jaebeom looks absolutely furious.“You knew? You knew that something was wrong and you didn’t tell me?”

Jinyoung furrows his eyebrows. “It’s not like that. He made me promise not to I-”

“You’re unbelievable. You didn’t think that as the leader I might’ve needed to know this? What if BamBam hadn’t been with him, how would he have gotten help?” Jaebeom lets out a hysterical laugh, pacing the floor. “Holy shit Jinyoung, how could you let this happen?”

“Jaebeom I-”

Jaebeom holds up his hand. “I need some space,” he spits, storming out the front doors and into the cool December air. 

Jinyoung takes a step forward, like he might go after him, but Youngjae grabs his shoulder gently. “Just let him go, yeah? He just needs to cool off.”

Jinyoung nods reluctantly, because he knows this. He knows Jaebeom better than anyone, and yet, his face when he was yelling at Jinyoung- the pure anger- Jinyoung has seen it before, numerous times, but never directed at him. Until now.

He blinks, trying to take away the wetness in his eyes, and lets Youngjae wrap him in a hug. He pulls away with a deep breath. 

“I saw a little cafeteria up the hallway,” Youngjae points, “Why don’t you go get some coffee? Jackson-hyung and I will watch the kids.”

Jinyoung’s lips quirk up, a comment of _You’re still a kid too,_ already on his lips, but he holds his tongue, instead reaching out and squeezing Youngjae’s hand. “You’re too good for us.”

Youngjae beams like the sunshine he is. “I know. Now go,” he urges, pushing Jinyoung towards the hall. 

_

When Jaebeom comes back, they’re still in the waiting room, anxious and loaded up on crappy coffee. He sits down beside Jinyoung and places a gentle hand on his knee. 

Jinyoung won’t look at him. 

“Nyoungie,” Jaebeom whispers, saying his name like a secret. “I’m sorry. That was unfair of me, and I don’t even know the whole story.”

Jinyoung makes a noise of agreement. 

Jaebeom pleads with his eyes. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just worried.”

Jinyoung looks over now, holding Jaebeom’s dark gaze. He sees so much love and so much anger pent up in this one boy, and his heart aches. He could never be mad at Jaebeom for long.

He sighs. “We’re all worried, okay? Just keep it together until we see Mark-hyung.”

Which, speaking of, a nurse calls out _Tuan, Mark_ , from the front desk, and they all scramble to stand up.

She eyes the boys warrily. “I’m really only supposed to let family in. Only his brother can go,” she says, nodding her head at BamBam. 

Five heads whip around to face the second youngest. 

“ _Brother_?” Jinyoung mouths. Mark and BamBam look kinda similar, and some of the other trainees always mix them up, but still- brothers?

BamBam shakes his head. _Not now._

“We’re all very close,” BamBam tells the nurse sweetly, pulling out his aegyo, “I think my brother would really like having us all there.”

BamBam throws in a pout and the nurse caves, handing over a stack of paper. “Fine. Fill out the forms and then I’ll show you his room.” She points a finger at BamBam, “Don’t make me regret this.”

BamBam gives her a genuine smile. “We won’t. Thank you.”

She turns back to her computer, and Jaebeom starts filling out the forms.

“Brother?” Youngjae bursts out, unable to hold out any longer.

BamBam shoots him a glare at the volume, looking around superstitiously before continuing in a much quieter voice, “They weren’t gonna let me ride with him in the ambulance so I lied and said we were brothers,” he whispers.

Jaebeom pinches the bridge of his nose, a habit he picked up from Jinyoung, “You lied to medical personnel?”

BamBam crosses his arms. “They were gonna leave me all alone, and they were gonna leave Mark-hyung alone, and I wasn’t about to let either of those things happen.”

_

And so Jackson’s day goes like this; one minute he’s messing around with Youngjae, trying to improve his vocals, and the next minute Jinyoung is pushing him into a taxi, sputtering something about going to see Mark.

And it’s just- it doesn’t compute at first, he doesn’t get it. 

It’s almost like Jackson’s body is in shock. The words _Mark_ and _hospital_ in the same sentence are too painful to even consider, so he doesn’t try. And it’s easy, to be unaware, to let the other members take the lead. Jackson is in the taxi and he’s going to see Mark and he's fine. And then Jackson is in the waiting room and he's going to see Mark and he’s fine. And then Jackson is in Mark’s hospital room and he _sees_ Mark and he is _not fine_.

The nurse leads them to Mark’s hospital room and the members crowd around his bed, pulling up chairs or in BamBam’s case sitting right on the foot of the bed. 

Jackson stays standing, unmoving, frozen in the doorway. 

From this close, it dawns on him that Mark just passed out, that everything Jinyoung had described was real. His palms start to sweat and his eyes flit around the room, desperately trying to look anywhere but where Mark is lying, IV lines in his arms and monitors on his chest. 

“Jackson, he’s okay,” Jaebeom promises, somehow appearing beside Jackson’s shoulder, trying to tug him closer.

It might be true, but all Jackson can see is the boy in front of him, pale and lifeless between the sheets.

Again, Jaebeom tugs on his shirt, pulling him forward. Jackson grabs a chair, pushing JB’s hands away so that he can try to take stock of his body.

Everything feels hazy, unreal like a nightmare now that Mark is in front of him. It doesn’t help that the hospital room is nearly silent, whispered words only being passed every couple minutes as they all hover around the bed, unsure what they’re supposed to do.

“Doctor said he should be awake any minute now,” Jackson overhears Jinyoung say. It makes him feel a little better, but still, Mark is probably his best friend in the group. He’s allowed to be worried.

“You okay?”

It takes Jackson a second to realize the voice is talking to him. He doesn’t remember sitting down, but he is, in the chair he had fetched earlier.

“Yeah,” he forces out, and when it comes out weak and croaking he clears his throat, forces his voice to be stronger and says, “Yeah, I’m all good.”

Lying somehow makes it feel more true. He wipes his hands on his pants, leans forward to wrap his larger hand around Mark’s long fingers, and waits.

_

Mark wakes up unceremoniously, groggy and complaining- just like he does every time they have early morning schedules. There’s about ten blissful minutes of lazy banter and teary hugs before BamBam addresses the elephant in the room. 

“Jinyoung-hyung told us a little bit, but not much,” he says, leaving the sentence open so Mark can interject.

Mark doesn’t say anything, surprise surprise, and Jinyoung reaches over and flicks him lightly. “Cat’s kinda out of the bag hyung, you might as well just explain.”

Mark sighs. “I, um.. I’m sorry,” he starts, “I never meant to put you in harm's way, Bam.”

BamBam scrunches his nose up. “It’s not your fault, hyung.”

A flash of anger appears on Mark’s face before it twists into one of regret and Jackson realizes that Mark is mad at _himself_. “It is though,” he whispers. “You could’ve gotten hurt and that’s because of me.”

BamBam scoots closer on Mark’s hospital bed, placing a hand on Mark’s thigh. “But I didn’t.”

Mark shakes his head. “Still.”

“Hyung,” BamBam groans, “Can you stop being all weird and self sacrificing for like two seconds? Cause I’m perfectly fine, and it’s _you_ who is hurt.”

“I’m alright,” Mark reassures, and then tries to sit up as if to prove his point. “What about the car?”

Jinyoung pushes him back down gently before he can get very far. “Don’t even think about it,” he warns, giving Mark his disappointed mom look. “And forget about the car, okay? It’ll be fine where it is until someone can swing by and get it.”

Mark huffs, but sinks deeper into the hospital pillow, obviously worn out.

“An explanation would be nice,” Jaebeom prompts.

Mark hides behind his hair and fiddles with the IV in his wrist. “I have this thing- well it’s not really a thing- it’s more like a problem. It’s an autonomic failure, really-”

Jackson’s head flies through a million gut-wrenching diagnoses, and the big words spewing from Mark’s mouth are no help to his racing heart.

But then Mark is shrugging, all casual, giving them all an embarrassed, weak smile. “It’s not a big deal, really. It’s called Hypotension. Basically, sometimes I just pass out.”

A pin could drop and Jackson is sure he would hear it. The faces around him are just as dumbstruck.

“I’m sorry, what?” BamBam blurts out, and thank god, because Jackson wasn’t going to say anything.

Mark looks helplessly at Jinyoung. “It’s.. hard to explain in Korean. I don’t use these words that often.”

Jinyoung takes over, putting his high school bio class and his late night google sessions to good use.

“Hypotension is a condition. It’s the opposite of high blood pressure. Sometimes the valves in his heart don’t constrict correctly and blood doesn't get pumped up fast enough to his brain. It causes a bunch of problems like dizziness, nausea, and fainting.”

“It just happens randomly?” Yugyeom asks.

Mark looks to Jinyoung again, but the younger boy backs off, letting Mark answer. “Sometimes. There are certain triggers, like if I don’t get enough sleep or if I go from sitting to standing too fast, and other days it just comes on without warning.”

The room still has an air of confusion, from the maknaes especially, and Mark struggles to find the words to explain. “You guys probably get, like, head rushes, yeah? It’s kind of like that.”

It takes a second after that for the floodgates to open, and questions for Mark start flying, but Jackson is lost in the way Mark seems perfectly fine now, if not a little anxious from the third degree from his members. This whole thing just seems so out there, like it’s just a weird dream Jackson’s bound to wake up from any minute.

But Jackson doesn't jolt awake as the minutes tick by, forcing him to accept that sure, apparently Mark losing his vision momentarily or fainting is a thing that just happens to happen to him sometimes. No big.

Jinyoung obviously was the only one who knew, and Jackson can’t help but wonder why Mark didn’t trust him enough to tell him. It just, it would’ve been really cool if they could’ve found out some other way. Like, an email notice, or a text. 

Mark’s voice, still deeper than normal from sleep, pulls Jackson back in. “Like when I get out of bed in the morning, my vision sometimes goes out and I just have to sit on the floor for a bit,” Mark explains, shrugging, easy as ever.

Jackson frowns. They share a room. They share a room and Mark has been hiding his symptoms, covering up his issues all this time? How could Jackson not have noticed? 

It makes him wonder what else Mark could be hiding behind a smile.

From the corner of his eye, Jackson can see Jaebeom rolling his eyes. “Mark-hyung, that doesn’t sound too good,” he says. Jackson honestly can’t imagine a better leader than JB. A minute ago he basically offered to hand deliver Mark to his next Doctor’s appointment just to make sure he actually goes. They haven’t even debuted yet, but Jackson already knows that Jaebeom was made for this.

“So like, what’s happening biologically that makes you faint?” Youngjae asks. He likes to sound smart, quietly hanging his academic achievements above them. Jackson would call him out on it if he wasn’t wondering the exact same thing.

Mark shrugs. “I just have really low blood pressure and my heart valves don't react the right way to the signals in my body.” He looks embarrassed at the whole situation. “Normally I have a better handle on it, but I guess I’ve been stressed so it’s acting up more often now.” He looks down at his hands. “It’s not a big deal.”

Jackson thinks that the whole hospital situation is, in fact, kind of a big deal, but he still can’t find his voice from where he’s managed to lose it the moment Mark’s eyes fluttered open.

Next to him, Jackson can see Yugyeom’s head tilt. “How can you even be a trainee?” he asks, not unkindly, but sort of blunt.

Youngjae pushes him. “Dude,” he says to Yugyeom, scolding. But it makes Mark laugh, his hands done anxiously twisting together as he relaxes under the more light-hearted spot light of his members’ attention.

“The choreo gets my heart rate and blood pressure up and that helps keep my blood from pooling in my lower body,” he answers. It sounds like a plagiarism of words, like Mark has been told the answer to that question too many times.

“Is it a secret?” BamBam asks, and Mark winces. 

“I guess it was, yeah.” He shrugs, “But obviously you know now.”

Something about how nonchalant Mark is makes Jackson able to accept it all, filing away everything Mark is telling them.

“Why hide it?” Jackson asks, his first words in minutes and really, the question they’ve all been wanting to know.

“Big companies like JYPE want the best of the best in their groups. And I get it, totally, so I also get that they wouldn’t accept someone if they thought they couldn’t keep up. No one wants the sick boy to drag down their promotions.” He punctuates the sentence with a self deprecating laugh.

Somewhere in Jackson’s mind, the explanation makes logical sense, but he can’t stop the train of thought reverberating around his skull of, _he lied, he didn’t tell me, why didn’t he tell me?_

“You could have told _us_ though?” Yugyeom points out softly, scuffing the tile floor with his shoe.

Mark shakes his head. “The more people know, the more likely the company will find out.” He pauses and bites his lower lip. “And I... I didn’t want to worry you.”

And that’s part of it, but Jackson can tell there’s more to the story. He raises an eyebrow. “ _Yien_?”

Mark could burn a hole in the hospital blanket with how intensely he’s looking at it. “I didn’t want you to treat me differently,” he mumbles around a yawn. 

“We would never,” Youngjae assures, but even as the words leave his mouth, the maknaes quiet down, which- different- and Jaebeom backs up from Mark slightly, looking like he’s scared to touch him.

Mark smiles sadly. “You already are,” he whispers, but he lets Jinyoung pull the blanket up around his chin, tucking him in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So all the members know now, but will they know how to deal with it.... I guess we'll find out...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating kind of late! I had a pretty severe asthma attack and was in the hospital for a while. I've been on and off treatments for the past couple days which has been kinda rough.... but I'm back with a new update!!

Mark gets discharged after hours of observation, and by some weird twist of fate, the company doesn’t find out. 

He makes a beeline for his room the second they get back to the dorms, but Jaebeom holds him back by the arm. The other members take the hint, and disperse to do their own thing while the two eldests have it out. 

“You know I have to tell them, right?”

Mark chews on his lower lip, sharp teething poking out nervously. “You really don’t, Jaebeom.”

“This isn’t up for discussion. The company knows about Youngjae’s allergies, and we all know about Yugyeom’s separation anxiety, and everything worked out. We’ve dealt with hard things before, and we can do it again.”

Mark scoffs. “I know you and Jinyoung have self-appointed yourselves as the mom and dad of GOT7, but newsflash; you’re not. You’re not my parents, and you don’t get to tell me what is and isn’t up for discussion.”

Jaebeom’s jaw clenches. “I may not be your dad, but right now you need someone to knock some sense into you. Do you realize how selfish you’re being?”

Mark’s eyebrows fly up his face. “ _Selfish_?” he demands incredulously.

Jaebeom nods. “You were lucky with BamBam, because nothing happened. But something could have, and you knew that, yet you still got in the car. Not only that, but you’ve been lying to us for months. How are we supposed to trust you when you can’t even trust us?”

“That’s not fair,” Mark says quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Trust had nothing to do with it and you know it. I’ve already explained my reasoning and I stand by it. I want this Beom, more than you know. I can’t risk it when I’m so close.”

JB runs a hand through his hair frustratedly. “How would you feel if something _had_ happened to Bam?”

Mark’s face twists into a frown. He really doesn’t need Jaebeom to lay the guilt on any thicker. The weight Mark is putting on himself is already unbearable. “Terrible,” he says coldly, and he means it. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

“Well then how do you think I would feel if something happened to _you_ and I could have prevented it?”

Mark’s mouth snaps shut. He hadn’t really thought of that.

Jaebeom continues gently. “There’s no good option hyung. We have to tell them.”

Mark’s eyes prick with tears, but he’s too tired to cry. He breathes out through his mouth, and makes eye contact with JB. “Please. Just- whatever respect you hold for me, don’t tell anyone.”

Jaebeom holds his gaze, but Mark doesn’t back down, his dark eyes serious. “Let it play out, okay? I just wanna be normal for a little bit longer.”

Jaebeom is quiet for so long that Mark thinks he’s not going to say anything, but then he sighs, closing his eyes. “Fine.”

Mark nods, and turns to go before he can change his mind, but Jaebeom grabs his arm again, looking into his eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but they’re gonna find out anyway, if I tell them or not. All secrets come out eventually.”

_

So it goes on like this- the members tip toeing around Mark, and Mark being increasingly annoyed- for the entire next week until they finally reach a breaking point.

“Maybe we should move on to the next part. We can go over this later,” Yugyeom suggests calmly.

“I’m fine,” Mark snaps, frustrated that he hasn’t been able to master their latest choreography, “Just show me how to do it again.”

Yugyeom looks to Jaebeom for help. They’ve been at this for a while, and Mark hasn’t been catching on. The leader closes his eyes for a second before reopening them. “Okay, five minute break.” Everyone disperses, and Jaebeom wanders over to Mark, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“It’s a hard routine,” he offers.

Mark isn’t in the mood. He shrugs off JB’s arm. Jaebeom hovers, trying to subtly watch Mark’s hands to see if they’re shaking.

Apparently, not subtle enough, because Mark immediately catches on, hiding his hands from view.

Jaebeom moves to touch Mark, but the older boy jerks away. 

Jaebeom treads lightly. “If your blood pressure’s low you can sit out for the rest of practice, the others won’t mind.”

Mark glares. “I’m fine.”

Jaebeom doesn’t drop it. “Mark-hyung you seem really unfocused and I just-

“Am I not allowed to have an off day without it always being about my condition?” Mark spits at him, voice rising and drawing the attention of the other members.

Jaebeom holds his hands up in surrender. “You’re sick, that’s okay, you should just sit down. Take it easy for a bit?”

Mark clenches his jaw hard, eyes turning cold. “I don’t want your pity.”

“Mark-hyung, I’m not.. I-”

But Mark is gone, running from the room and slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the doorframe.

Jinyoung looks at Jaebeom. “You handled that well,” he says sarcastically.

Jaebeom’s own temper rises. “Don’t you fucking start with me.”

BamBam is studying the floor very intensely and Youngjae is huddled in on himself.

“Everyone just breathe for a second,” Yugyeom suggests, because telling people to calm down never makes them more calm, but he can’t stand it when the members fight.

Jackson stands up. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Jinyoung pinches the bridge of his nose. “Maybe you should give him some space.”

“Probably,” Jackson shrugs, “But I’m going anyway.”

No one stops him.

_

Mark sprints to the park, tears blurring his eyes. JB’s words run on a loop in his head, _You’re sick, you’re sick, you’re sick._

Mark lets out a strangled noise. Like he needs anyone to remind him. He fucking knows, okay? He lives with it every damn day.

He’s running laps around the park now, because Jaebeom was right- damn him- and Mark’s hands really are shaking in earnest now. He needs to keep going, keep his heart rate up though, because they still have a full day of schedules, and he can’t afford to be down for the count now.

_That’s okay,_ the Jaebeom in Mark’s head mocks, _you should just sit down. Take it easy for a bit?_

Mark laughs dryly. If his friends spent less time treating him like he would break any second, and more time actually listening, they would know that sitting down is exactly what Mark _doesn’t_ need to do.

The anger is still there, but it’s not burning so brightly anymore, and Mark thinks that he can afford two more laps around before he has to go back to practice, because it’s still his job, and he is- before anything- a professional.

Footsteps come up behind him, and Mark ducks his head, not wanting a random stranger to see him crying. He waits for the person to pass, but they don’t, and he looks up, greeted with Jackson, running beside him.

Neither one says anything, and they continue to run. After a bit, Mark slows to a jog, and Jackson follows suit.

“I fucking hate when people treat me like I’m made of glass,” Mark says, his words dripping venom.

Jackson's mouth moves too fast for his brain to keep up. “And I hate when people lie to me, so I guess we’re both disappointed.”

It feels like a slap across the face, and Mark freezes, his tears stopping suddenly. “You’re mad at me,” Mark breathes out, looking at Jackson with an unfamiliar expression.

Jackson shakes his head earnestly. “No. I’m worried, and frustrated, and honestly kind of confused but no. I’m not mad.”

Mark brings a hand up to his temples, rubbing them and then starts to jog again. “I wanted to tell you,” he admits after a pause.

“Then why didn’t you?” Jackson demands, his voice harsher than he meant it to be. He lowers it considerably, looking at his feet. “And why would you tell Jinyoung instead of me? I thought… I mean.. we share a room and everything…”

“I didn’t _tell_ Jinyoung, he found out.”

“But after he did, why not tell us? I know what you said at the hospital, but I wouldn’t have told management, not if you asked me not to.” He looks to Mark, trying to read him, but the older boy is purposely not looking at him. “Don’t you trust me?” And if Jackson’s voice is unsteady it’s because they’re jogging, not for any other reason.

“More than myself,” Mark answers, and then winces because that was too much, too obvious. 

“So why didn’t you tell me?”

“Beause I fucking knew this would happen!” Mark snaps, tugging a hand through his hair in frustration. “You saw Jaebeom and Yugyeom today. Don’t tell me that was normal.”

Jackson shrugs. “They’re just worried.”

Mark’s jaw clenches. “Well they need to stop it. I’m not some damsel in distress, Jackson.”

Jackson’s voice is steady. “Maybe you’re not a damsel, but you’re certainly in distress.” He tries to make eye contact with Mark. “Let us help you.”

Mark plays with his necklace, suddenly feeling vulnerable, talking about this out in the open. “I…” He avoids meeting Jackson’s big honest eyes. “I can’t. I don’t wanna burden anyone.”

Jackson shakes his head vehemently. “You’re not a burden. We want to help.”

“But I don’t _need_ help,” Mark says firmly. “I’ve worked my ass off to be here and I’m just as good as everyone else.”

“I guess I just don’t think that’s true,” Jackson answers without hesitation. 

Predictably, Mark’s head whips towards him, his eyes flooding with new anger and something else Jackson can’t quite identify. The look on Mark’s face is the second one that Jackson’s never seen on him before. It's really making him start to wonder if he should just drop the topic all together.

He doesn't, though, because Mark brought it up, and Jackson’s not going to lie to him.

“I think it makes you better, more dedicated,” he reasons. “How many times have you heard other groups, or managers, or us, say you have amazing stamina?”

This time, when Jackson glances over, Mark is hiding a smile, his face half turned away as if he’s content just staring at the sky during one of their deepest conversations. It's a lot to face, Jackson realizes. Either way, this at least is an expression of Mark’s that Jackson knows like the back of his hand. It’s comforting in a way it maybe shouldn’t be.

It’s too late to stop now, Jackson thinks. “Seriously, Mark. I get that if you slow down and sit, your blood pressure goes down and you’re more likely to pass out- I do, and that’s terrible- but I think that’s your secret weapon. You’re always on, where everyone else shuts off.”

“I have to be.”

Jackson smiles- exasperated- and shakes his head. He doesn't understand how Mark can't see himself like he sees him. “You chose to be, though. You could’ve just decided to go back to school, quit idol life, but instead, as everyone else gets to take five, you push yourself to stay moving and keep your heart rate up. It’s impressive, man. When I work next to you it makes me push myself harder, just to keep up.”

The silence he’s met with makes him risk another glance, and it’s worth it, to see Mark’s beaming, embarrassed grin. “Suck up,” the older boy teases, his tone warm.

There’s comfortable silence, until Jackson breaks it- dreading the reaction he’ll get. He can’t _not_ ask though. “Are you okay?”

Mark groans. Hadn’t they just been over this? 

“Gaga,” he whines.

“Mork,” Jackson whines back, mocking him.

Mark reluctantly shows him his hands, and Jackson’s heart clenches at how much they’re shaking.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling shitty?” Jackson prods, frowning.

“Other than the whole I’m-such-a-burden-thing?”

“Yes, other than that.”

Mark shrugs a shoulder. “Because I’m always feeling shitty. It doesn’t just go away.”

Jackson doesn’t say anything, because there’s nothing to say. Silently though, he vows that he’ll do anything and everything he can to help Mark.

_

When they return Jaebeom throws out a low, “Sorry,” and Mark replies with a half hearted “It’s fine,” and neither are really ideal responses to what just went down, but for today, it’s enough.

_

The next day, management sits down with the whole of GOT7 for what they thought was going to be a meeting about their fast approaching debut, but quickly turned into a shitshow when they were interrupted by the doctor’s office calling saying that they have Mark’s prescription refill. 

Turns out that when they had filled out the paperwork at the hospital last week, they had accidentally put the company phone number down instead of Mark’s cell.

Needless to say, the managers are Not Happy™ when they find out. It’s tense, and Mark struggles through explanation after explanation, but they don’t kick him out. 

J.Y. Park- the old crusty one, not GOT7’s resident angel- gives Mark a lot of shit for it.

The other members can hear his yelling from where they’ve been shoed outside the room so he and Mark could discuss privately. 

And for Jaebeom, it’s a weird experience. J.Y.P is worried that Mark won’t be able to keep up and it’ll ruin the company reputation. Jaebeom is worried that Mark will push himself too far and get hurt. It might be for different reasons, but they’re both reacting poorly, smothering Mark instead of helping him.

So as they all hover near the door, listening anxiously to the one sided argument going on inside the office, Jaebeom takes a second to put himself in Mark’s shoes. Nothing has changed, not really, Mark is still the same Mark, now he just has more layers to him. If it were JB, he would want everyone to treat him exactly like before, to not make a fuss. It must be even worse for the eldest, who is quiet by default and doesn’t like being the centre of attention.

_Fuck_ , Jaebeom thinks, _I’ve been going about this all wrong._

Something inside the office gets slammed, like maybe someone hit a desk, and Jaebeom leaps into action. They haven’t even debuted yet, but he can already tell that their company CEO is a dick. And he’s not about to stand for it, not at the sake of one of his members.

Jaebeom slams the door back open, barging in, five other members trailing after him. 

“Mark-hyung is talented and works hard. He deserves to be here, this doesn’t change anything.”

Mark looks up at him and they make eye contact for a second. 

Jaebeom nods. _I’m sorry._

Mark smiles. _It’s okay._

J.Y.P looks less than impressed at the outburst. “ _Your_ attitude on top of _his_ ,” he jabs a finger at Mark, “ _condition,_ does not bode well for your debut date.”

Jinyoung raises his eyebrows. “We are more than ready to debut.”

J.Y.P gives a sarcastic laugh. “You guys are the rookies, but it doesn’t mean that I’m going to go easy on you. Exceptions will not be made for the seven of you.”

They all nod. “We know that,” BamBam assures.

“We have medics on-staff, but I expect this to be handled by you Mark. You need to be responsible for this.”

Mark nods, expression serious. “I will be.”

Their CEO takes one last look at the members. “You are only as strong as your weakest link.”

Jackson hears loud and clear what he’s implying, and his hand clenches into a fist unconsciously. Jaebeom reacts similarly, and the angry chin makes a guest appearance. Youngjae grabs Jackson’s arm, tugging him back an inch, while Jinyoung takes Jaebeom’s.

“That must be why we’re so good,” Yugyeom says, defiance clear as he brings himself up to his full height. 

This time J.Y.P cracks a hint of a genuine smile. “Alright then. You can go now,” he says, waving them out of his office.

They get out, all in different states of shock and anger, only to be greeted with some of their staff.

Sena-noona (BamBam might’ve had a crush on her if he was straight because, have you seen the sparky jackets she made last week?) gives them a sympathetic smile. “I just want you to know that we’re not all like that. I will try and help you all as much as I can,” she says sincerely. 

Jaebeom nods when Mark looks too overwhelmed to speak. “Thank you.”

Chiwon, their medic, pats Mark’s back. “This would’ve been a whole lot easier if you just told me, but I’m happy to help now that I know.”

Mark’s chest feels heavy and he follows blindly as Jaebeom leads the way to god knows where. 

It’s out now. His secret that he worked so hard to keep is out. It won’t be long until everyone knows, news like this tends to spread like a wildfire. 

Just as his thoughts start to grow louder and darker, a warm hand slips into his, and he glances up at Jackson, who gives him a bright smile.

Huh.

Mark squeezes Jackson’s hand, and tunes into BamBam and Yugyeom’s discussion about the tattoos they’re going to get when they’re older. 

Maybe it’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll try and update this soon but I'm also working on some things for virgo line's bdays, so who knows when I'll update next?


	5. Chapter 5

_January 2014_

So, time passes and it goes like this: Mark is tired. The music industry is hectic at best and completely overwhelming at worst. 

“ _You’ve survived your first scandal,_ ” his little brother Joey teases him one day.

In a way, he supposes it’s true.

Just as he had expected, news had traveled fast, and there were articles, and hashtags, and he was even trending on twitter for a while there. It was weird, to have his name plastered all over the internet, attached with rumours and lies and conspiracies. Still though, for the most part, it was okay. 

Sure, there were articles that questioned his dedication to the group, that questioned whether he would be able to participate fully or even claimed he only got accepted into the group out of pity. 

But then there were others that praised his work ethic, and tried to be as informative about his condition as possible.

And then there were the other groups and trainees. They never even batted an eye. Everyone still teased him about his big appetite, complained that he was too quiet, and laughed when he made lame puns.

It was the support from the fans though, that made Mark realize the impact he had. Numerous fans took to social media to stand up for him, and some even relayed their own health struggles. 

There was a fan letter that really caught his attention.

_You are a role model for people like us with chronic conditions. If you can make your dreams come true, then so can we. I tried out for the dance team last week because you inspired me. Thank you._

Mark is tired, but he’s happy.

_

_March 2014_

So, time passes and it goes like this: Jackson is lonely. Seoul is a long way away from home.

At first, he didn’t have time to dwell on anything. GOT7 officially debuted two months ago, and there was a whole lot of baggage that surrounded that alone. They were thrust into idol life at full speed, thrown into the fast lane with promotions, and live performances, and releasing their first mini album.

It was nerve wracking, and exciting, and so incredibly busy that most days blurred together and the only things that passed through Jackson’s brain were; _Practice, Perform, Repeat._

But now. Now, he has time to think.

Jackson really misses his family, and even his friends here all seem to have better things to do than hang out with him. 

Although, Mark no longer has to cancel on hanging out with the group outside of practices and mandatory events, because everyone knows now that he’s got his thing. 

So with Mark, it’s not so lonely anymore, but the extra time together means that Jackson sees a lot more of what he now knows- and can correctly pronounce- as hypotension.

The first time he sees it in full swing is a couple weeks after the company finds out, when it’s just the two of them.

They’re marathoning some crime show in English, because Mark won rock-paper-scissors, when he rolls off the couch and grabs for his water glass to refill it. It’s so normal that Jackson doesn't even look up, at least not until he hears glass shattering. He’s never got up so fast in his life, and it leaves him stuttering to a stop as he finds Mark on the floor halfway to the kitchen, dangerous shards surrounding him.

“I’m sorry, Gaga,” Mark is saying, even as he blinks down at the floor, obviously still without his vision.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jackson promises, and when Mark tries to get up way too soon, “Don’t move yet, alright? There’s glass all around you.”

The annoyed huff he hears from Mark is oddly endearing, as if he’s just plainly annoyed his body decided to not send blood to his brain.

“Tell me when your vision comes back, okay?” Jackson asks.

But Mark doesn't, instead wrapping his arms around his knees as he pulls them to his chest and lets his head hang. It’s one of the recovery positions Jackson saw during the group’s collective googling fiasco the night Mark was in the hospital, so he lets Mark ride out the dizziness as he sweeps up the floor around him.

When Mark finally raises his head from between his knees, his cheeks are flushed. “I’m sorry,” he says again, as if he has anything to apologize for.

“Seriously, don’t apologize.”

“I broke a glass,” Mark counters.

“I’m pretty sure it was JB’s anyway,” Jackson jokes. He holds out a hand to Mark, and Mark takes it.

_

The next time it happens is weeks later. It seems it only comes on its own schedule, persistently present for days on end and then disappearing until the next round.

“Sometimes salt helps,” Mark tells him through a full mouth, when Jackson’s teasing him for the sodium intake on his takeout order.

It makes Jackson happy, knowing that Mark is comfortable enough to talk about it now. It’s almost like his first episode alone with Jackson cemented a comfortability between them.

It’s laughable, really, that a few minutes later, Mark tries to stand from where they’re eating on the couch and ends up falling back, heavily, against the cushions.

It’s not a full vision-failing, passing out episode, but it’s enough to have Mark’s hands held out, low, in front of himself as if he’s expecting to fall forward. It only takes him a second to shake off the dizziness, and Jackson finds himself laughing easily at the irony as Mark shoves him.

“I forgot to mention that sometimes carbo- loading also makes it happen,” he defends in a half-whine.

“Why?” Jackson feels comfortable enough to ask, as he goes back to eating.

Mark shrugs. “Something about blood going to your stomach to digest the food. It just means there’s less blood, less pressure for my heart to pump through when it needs more, so it’s less likely I’ll get blood to my brain when I change positions like that.”

Jackson hums around a mouthful then swallows. “Sounds like you’ve got this all down.”

“It’s been years. It’s just stupid that it happens so randomly; it makes me forget sometimes.”

“Forgetting can be kind of dangerous, huh?” Jackson wonders aloud.

Mark’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I didn’t go to the doctor until I was fourteen,” he admits. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal- I just got used to being dizzy and to having these constant head rushes- but then I had one that made me pass out. I hit my head pretty hard,” he says, his fingers brushing over a scar on the side of his head unconsciously. “My older sister Tammy found me and it was a whole mess.”

Jackson doesn’t know what he could possibly say. He can’t even imagine. “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry, hyung.”

Mark’s smile is real this time, even if it’s not his usual, blinding grin. “Thanks,” he whispers.

_

_June 2014_

Life goes on. 

GOT7 climbs higher and higher up the charts each day, a rookie group that starts to pop up in news articles and radio shows. 

The fans are already so so loyal, and it’s been amazing to see how global their reach really is, how many people from around the world are united by their music. 

It’s been a little over six months since everyone officially found out about Mark, and he currently has a running count of 89 days without a loss of consciousness. He’s come close a couple times, his vision black and his hands reaching for whatever- or whoever- is closest, but he’s stayed awake.

It’s just a regular morning dance practice when Mark’s streak ends. He goes down in a heap before practice even has a chance to begin.

“I told him to keep moving, to not sit around for too long and let his blood pressure lower,” their onstaff medic, Chiwon, defends as Jaebeom comes closer to get a read on the situation.

“He was tired this morning,” Jackson argues. “He just needed to relax for a second.” Chiwon must see something in Jackson’s resolve because he nods, “You’re right, if he’s overtired this could’ve happened even if he didn’t sit down.”

Between the members and staff hovering, Mark looks peaceful laid out on the wood floor, his head lulled to one side.

“I almost hate to wake him up,” Chiwon jokes, but then Jaebeom claps his hands together. It’s more to get everyone to stop hovering over Mark, but it succeeds in pulling Mark back to reality.

He groans when he realizes what’s happened. “I had such a good streak going,” he whines.

Chiwon nods encouragingly, slowly helping Mark sit up. “Progress is progress, even if there’s a slight misstep in your path,” he reminds. 

Jackson’s heard enough of Chiwon’s wise words to last a lifetime. He joins the stretching warm ups seamlessly, letting Mark get led out of the dance room by their staff.

It’s a rough practice and despite how in sync they’ve been in their performances lately, their dance teacher rips them a new one.

That whole attitude changes once practice is over and, as everyone is filling out to go shower, Mark comes back in.

His long sleeve shirt is pushed up to the crook of his elbow, revealing bandages that are no doubt the aftermath of an IV drip.

“Wanna go over the choreo with me?” Mark asks, hopeful.

Jackson’s dripping sweat. He’s pretty sure he made a new leg muscle today. “Sure,” he agrees anyway.

Before they can start, their dance teacher stops Mark near the door, talking quietly to him with a supportive arm on his shoulder. Jackson tries not to pry, drinking his water and pretending to be busy, but it’s hard not to overhear when they’re the only ones left in the empty room.

He’s reassuring, gentle, worried. “If I’m pushing you too hard,” he starts, but Mark is quick to shoot that down.

“No, Kiwoo-hyung. Really, I’m good. I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t handle it.” His voice is earnest, stern. He’s earned his spot here and he’s not going to let anyone take it from him.

Jackson sees Kiwoo squeeze Mark’s shoulder one last time before it’s just him and Mark left in the room, mirrors reflecting themselves back.

“Want to talk about it?” Jackson asks.

“No,” Mark says. And that’s that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this story will be in Jackson's pov from now on. What are your thoughts so far??


	6. Chapter 6

_October 2014_

Korea is admittedly hard sometimes. Jackson thought that seeing Mark more was a quick fix, but it's not enough. He’s miles away from everything he knows that’s not music, and even then at least in Hong Kong when he was fencing, his parents were always cheering him on in the stands or picking him up after a loss, but now he’s barely allowed to send them demo songs in case they somehow get leaked.

Seoul can be loud in a way that’s deafening. 

The dorm is always a chaotic mess, people flooding in and out in a constant wave of motion. He’s accustomed to banging on bathroom doors just to catch a quick shower, and pushing makeup, clothes, and random food wrappers into the top drawer just so he can set down his towels. 

Somehow though, even with six other toothbrushes in the holder, Jackson feels alone.

It feels like everyone has their own lives here, and Jackson’s just too far behind to be able to get ahead. It’s like he’s the last one to summer camp and everyone’s already found their cabin partner. Which is crazy, he knows, because he’s got a friend list that could fill up a small country. 

He’s friendly, and loud, and charismatic, and so are all of his friends. 

But he misses the quiet mornings where his mom would sit at the kitchen table and read the newspaper, and he would sleepily eat breakfast, and they wouldn’t talk but it would be nice. 

Or the cool sweat of an early morning fencing practice, with his father coaching him from the side, awake before everyone else. 

And he would never admit it, but he even misses his older brother. They were never super close, but they had the same taste in music, and sometimes they would go in their basement and illegally download mixtapes, and it was fun, having that secret between them. 

So Jackson is sad and homesick, and his friends are loud and cheerful. So he is loud and cheerful too, because that’s what they want, right? For Jackson to make them laugh, for Jackson to entertain them. 

It’s exhausting. He misses the way that he can just be himself around Mark. How there’s never any expectations for him to fulfill when they hang out. He misses him.

Which, again, is crazy, he knows, they share a room and if he asked, Mark would probably hang out with him a lot more in a heartbeat, but it’s more about the fact that Mark is building his own life here. 

He doesn’t need Jackson to drag him down now that he’s finally settling in. 

What it all comes down to is that Mark might be Jackson’s favourite person here, but Jackson isn’t Mark’s, and that…. sucks. It leaves him alone in a city that’s big enough to swallow him whole.

_

GOT7 just released their first Japanese album, and they’re already working on their full album that’s going to be released next month, when the company finally decides to give them some time off after months of nonstop schedules. 

Jackson admittedly wallows in self pity for the full two days they have off.

He doesn't go out with any of his friends when they ask, and he doesn't call home. It’s counterproductive, but he’s in a funk he’s not quite sure how to break.

By the end of the day, he’s convinced he’s just feeling sorry for himself for the sake of feeling sorry for himself. He’s allowed to wallow, he figures; he’s young, lost, and in a foreign country. It’s a recipe for disaster.

He cuts that shit out real quick though once the next morning practice comes, pushing himself to focus on the music. His job.

The anger and the seemingly physical pain of loneliness does wonders for his passion. His dancing is more powerful than ever and his voice is crisp, but it doesn't fix the fact that he’s about to go back to a dorm that feels empty even when it’s full.

Jaebeom grabs him by the shoulder before he’s set to leave, though, and invites him out with some of their other idol friends. “Just a small thing,” he reassures.

“Sure,” Jackson agrees, maybe a little too quickly to be chill.

Like he’s been listening in, waiting to strike, Mark calls out, “Gaga, you have the car right? You wanna drive me?” He’s as predictable as ever, messily shoving his clothes into his bag across the dance room.

Jackson’s been trying to keep his distance from him today, worried that his bad mood will rub off, but Mark doesn't seem to be getting the hint.

“I just have to find one more thing-” he’s mumbling, frantically looking around himself.

Jackson honestly considers backing out of their plans, but then Mark is reaching down for the bracelet he’s found, and Jackson, without thought, is already stepping forward, ready to catch Mark as he stumbles.

“Going down,” Mark jokes, still painfully happy even as he’s left defenseless, clinging to Jackson as he waits for the dizziness to pass.

It only takes a couple seconds, but still. “You need to be more careful,” Jackson scolds.

“I’ll be careful when I’m dead,” Mark chirps, hefting his bag up over his shoulder as if he wasn’t barely clinging to consciousness, and Jackson, a second ago.

“You’ll be dead if you’re not careful,” he shoots back. Mark tries to stop him from grabbing the bag off his shoulder, but Jackson gives him a look.

“Fine, carry my shit, see if I care,” Mark relents, handing his stuff over with suspicious ease.

Jackson can’t help but feel he’s been played.

“You’re terrible,” he tells Mark, but the wide smile complete with canines that gets thrown his way makes whatever was tensing his shoulders loosen, even with the added weight.

_ 

The company car that Jackson has managed to snag today has seen some shit.

It’s just- he’s found it somehow easier to talk about things when he has the distraction of driving at his literal fingertips. So, when not even a second after they’ve turned onto the highway towards the restaurant they’re all meeting at, Mark says, all casual, “I know something’s wrong, and I’m here to listen if you want to talk about it.” 

Jackson breathes out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “It’s just hard here,” he answers honestly, hating the croaky way his voice sounds. He wasn’t expecting to ever talk about this, and he can’t tell if he’s more surprised by his own response or Mark’s scarily intuitive one.

“Like ‘here’ as in Korea and away from home, or ‘here’ as in kpop in Korea?”

“Away from home,” Jackson admits, “I have nothing here.”

“You have me.”

Mark’s words hang in the air between them, steady, waiting, until Jackson dares to risk a glance to his passenger’s seat, to Mark, for what feels like the thousandth time this year.

There’s no judgement, no unease.

Jackson opens up like a floodgate. “It’s hard without my family and friends. China is so far and it’s not fair that the other members can just take a bus and visit their families. That they can call their friends anytime without worrying if they might be sleeping, or in class, or just too busy. Even BamBam gets to go home more than me.”

Jackson pauses to breathe. He doesn’t know why he’s confessign this shit to Mark of all people, because it’s not like he’s been home in the last year either, but Mark is Mark, so Jackson keeps going.

“The members are great, just- everyone else has a life here. Namjoon keeps ignoring my calls and Henry is so tired that he never wants to meet up. Even Amber’s too busy for me, I don’t know. Everyone has someone.”

Careful not to disrupt his steering, Mark punches his arm, gentle. “I was kind of under the impression that you were my someone,” he teases quietly. And that's- that’s a lot to unpack so Jackson doesn't even try. He knows Mark doesn't mean it the way Jackson wants him to.

So his mouth opens, and closes, and opens one more time before he gives up on finding the right words. And if his chest feels full for the first time in days, it’s because he let out his feelings and definitely not because Mark is saying shit that sounds like a line from the notebook. That’d be weird, if he were. They’re bandmates, first and foremost, and bandmates don’t say things like that and mean it.

Mark- blunt like always- takes Jackson’s silence in stride. “The time difference is hard,” he says quietly. “It always seems like I’m catching my family at a bad time. And… I don’t know, people like to assume that just because I’m quiet, I don’t want to be around anyone. Which… isn’t true.” 

He looks down self-consciously. “I’ve been kind of lonely too. I should’ve told you, but I just thought you wanted space after you didn’t go out with us on our days off.”

Jackson’s still trying to fit together how their conversation even got to this point. So, it’s not his fault he continues down the dangerous road they’ve paved. “I’m an idiot. This is on me,” he reassures Mark. “I spent those two days wallowing, one hand on an ice cream spoon and another on the remote, wishing I was hanging out with you.”

It’s maybe too honest, like this whole heart-to-heart has been, and while Jackson sweats, Mark tries to hold down a smile. _Unfair,_ Jackson thinks first, and then, _oh._

Because he’s never talked with someone like this and had it just feel so natural. Like he could say anything and Mark would just take it at face value and run with it, listening but never judging. For once, he doesn’t have to be funny, cheerful, crazy Jackson Wang. He can just be Jackson.

“Next time,” Mark says, and reaches across the gear shift, “just say something.” His hand brushes Jackson’s arm once, lightly, and it sears the skin there. “I’d much rather we break our diets and get yelled at by the managers together.”

And there’s that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> deep car rides am I right..


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual good parental figures?? Can't relate, but Jackson loves his family so much irl, so I made sure they were very sweet in this fic.

_November 2014_

Mark and Jackson spend a lot more time together in the next couple weeks. It’s nice. Good for both of them, maybe even more than they realize. 

Time heals all wounds, right? 

Which, hey, it could be true. Maybe Jackson just needs a little _more_ time.

It’s late at night when his family facetimes him, and even they can sense a change in him.

“ _Jiaer, I normally hear from you every night. It’s been days. Is everything okay_?” 

His mom is searching the screen as if looking for some kind of tell, seeing if Jackson’s being held captive or having a silent breakdown.

He doesn't even have a chance to reassure her before his dad is cutting in. “ _I could fly over anytime Jiaer. Just say the word_.” 

Jackson wishes that he called them more often. He feels bad for making them worry, but he figures they’re parents, they’re always going to worry.

“ _I could too,”_ Jackson’s cousin chirps from off-screen. His dad’s face hardens, looking to the right.

“ _No, you most certainly will not. School is your main priority_ ,” he scolds. 

His cousin pouts and Jackson muffles a laugh at her sake.

Next to his mom, Jackson’s brother rolls his eyes. “ _Maybe_ I’ll _visit then_. _Before my fiance and I head back to Australia_.”

His mother reaches out and hits his brother in the arm. “ _You can’t leave the country now, we have wedding preparations, what are you thinking?_ ”

It’s nice, Jackson thinks. Seeing them makes the homesickness in his chest ache just a little bit harder, but he’s okay in Korea. He’s got people here too, now.

“Guys,” he calls, to interrupt their bantering, “I just haven’t facetimed because I've been pretty busy. The promotions have been nonstop. And I’ve been getting really close with some of the members. It’s…been good here.”

His mom maybe doesn't believe him. It makes him laugh to see that perpetual assessing look all moms seem to be so good at, like she’s just simply reading an open book, waiting to get to the line of words that’ll reveal Jackson’s whole hand.

She takes the phone out of the kitchen and walks down the hallway of his childhood home- leaving the others to bicker- the connection becoming fuzzy for a second. When it focuses, it’s just his mom, warm but still all-knowing.

“ _You need more sleep, and you need to take care of yourself._ ”

“I miss you Mom,” Jackson blurts out in a burst of weakness, the words slipping out even as he cringes, knowing how they will double her worry.

She looks conflicted, like maybe she’ll just get up and book a flight right then and there, but then she looks into Jackson’s big eyes and seems to reconsider. “ _I love you, Jiaer. We all miss you so much too._ ”

Jackson smiles. He doesn’t know what he’d do without his family.

“ _Now I’m going to ask you one more time before I pull out the big guns and call Grandma, okay?_ ” she says, staring him down. _“Are you doing alright?”_

“I’m good, mom. Really,” he promises. 

And then somehow they get to talking about his friends, and the group, and then Mark, because with Jackson, things have a funny way of always ending up being about Mark. And Jackson- who was tight lipped about the whole passing-out thing, because he knows that’s how Mark would want it- unleashes everything.

His mom wants to send him a care package.

“Mom,” he groans, “I said I’m fine. We’re dealing with it. It was scary when he passed out, yeah, but-”

She shushes him, “ _Not you, Gaga. Yien_.”

And oh. Actually, that’d be pretty nice. Mark is the kind of guy who probably loves shit like that- free food delivered right to his door.

_

Three days later Jackson is woken up by Mark shaking him roughly. 

“What,” he groans, half asleep still.

Mark’s voice is too bright, too fast, for nine AM on an off day. Mark usually sleeps in as long as he can, so either he felt sick and went for a run to get his heart rate up, or something monumental happened. “Your mom is the sweetest. Like, the literal sweetest. I have cavities now, Gaga,” Mark giggles excitedly in English.

It takes Jackson a while to connect two and two. 

“She sent the basket,” he says, managing to make it sound like more of a question.

Mark hums, “She put all my favourite foods.” He grins mischievously, “Guess that means you’ve been talking about me a lot, huh?”

Jackson blushes. “Shut up.” He softens though. “I’m glad you like it, I’ll let her know.”

“Did she tell you about the card?” Mark asks, his words suddenly a lot more gentle.

Jackson shrugs.

The dopey smile Mark is wearing goes soft. “It’s a very personal card,” he says snottily, “I don’t know if I’m comfortable sharing it with you anymore.”

Jackson huffs. “I can and will ignore you,” he warns, adding in a pout. It does the trick. 

With a roll of his eyes, Mark flings himself up from where he was sitting perched on Jackson’s bed, already dressed for the day.

“Woah, slow down over there,” Jackson teases, joking even though he feels a real twist of anxiousness at seeing Mark stand up so fast.

Mark admittedly falters as he’s forced to lean against the wall until his vision stops tunneling. “I’m good,” he says, and even as he’s still getting blood to his head, he’s back with a spring in his step. “This card was amazing, Gaga. Your mom should write a book.”

For a second Jackson’s good mood goes shockingly sour. He can’t tell if it’s a real joke, if Mark is making fun of his mom’s English in the card.

“Hey,” he calls for Mark’s attention, about to address it. He’s gone too many years not saying anything and he knows they’re close enough to talk it out, for him to be honest, even if it’ll be a little awkward.

But Mark is pushing on, “You have to hear this,” And then he’s squinting down at the card, Jackson biting his tongue while Mark quotes, ‘ _We’re so happy Jackson has found a friend like you to help make Korea his home_.’

He looks over at Jackson after he’s read that one bit, and Jackson isn’t sure what his face is doing, but it must be spectacular for Mark’s smile to go from beaming to disgustingly gentle in less than a second’s time.

“Well that’s embarrassing,” Jackson laughs, honestly a little self conscious. It’s still miles better than the anger he was feeling before, though, so he’ll take it. “I thought you were making fun of my mom’s English, to be honest.” It’s morning, he reasons, when he wonders why he just confessed that.

Like he’s physically repulsed by Jackson’s words, Mark’s whole face scrunches up. He sits back on Jackson’s bed. “I would never.”

Jackson nods, but shrugs, mixed feelings sending off mixed signals. “You never know. People like to throw around microaggressions and act like it’s no big deal.”

It’s hard to read Mark’s expression now, but his tone is steely when he speaks. “If someone’s doing shit like that, all you have to do is tell me, Jackson. I’ll do something about it.”

It makes Jackson smile, a real, genuine smile. “Yeah, Marky?” he teases, “gonna go all fight club on me?”

“You bet your ass I am,” he responds in a heartbeat, then brags, “You saw my wrestling match with Sungjin.”

Jackson’s eyes roll as he thinks back to the friendly competitions a few weeks ago when they were all drunk. “The jury’s still out on that one, bud.”

“Hey!” Mark squeaks.

Jackson loves how easy it is to ruffle him up. “Some of the boys still think you were just passing out and he happened to be the closest person.”

“It wasn’t a hug!” Mark enunciates with short, choppy shakes of his head, “I was taking him down.”

“Okay, tough guy,” Jackson concedes. Even he can hear how disgustingly fond his own tone is.

Mark is laying across from him, and he’s warm under the blankets and lazily enough with sleep to stay in bed and just talk. But apparently Mark has other ideas.

“It’s an off day,” he reminds Jackson. “Let’s go do something.”

Jackson is already nodding. “Like what?”

Mark shrugs. “I don’t know. But I need a good adrenaline rush. We can go up to that cliff?”

Jackson nods. “Sure.” He pulls himself out of bed, and throws on a sweater, tugging the hood up so he doesn’t have to fix his hair.

Mark is already grabbing his wallet and keys. “I think we should let the others sleep, yeah? It’ll be just us?”

Jackson can’t help but mimic the easy, happy smile on Mark’s face even though his heart races at the words. “Okay.” And then, “You’re good to drive?” he asks, just to check in, because Mark still gets nervous sometimes about driving with his condition after the whole BamBam situation went down.

Mark, honest to god looks down at his body, as if checking. “Yeah,” he decides, after a second. 

Jackson determines then and there that his best friend is an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen a lot of people dealing with mental health issues recently and I just want to encourage everyone to take a step back and breathe. Things will get better, I swear. Take care of yourselves<3


	8. Chapter 8

_January 2015_

“Gaga,” Mark says quietly from his seat beside Jackson’s.

The music is loud, but somehow Mark’s voice is clear, piercing through the foreground with ease. Jackson glances away from the bobbing lights to smile at him. He scoots his chair a little closer. “What’s up?”

Mark is shifting his eyes, not looking directly at him. “You ready to head back?” he asks.

Jackson frowns. They just got to the club, it’s only eleven, and he hasn’t even had time to show off his sweet sweet moves on the dance floor. “Not really,” Jackson answers, laughing. 

Mark cracks a weak smile and Jackson’s frown grows deeper. He takes a closer look at Mark. “Why, are you okay?”

Mark considers the question, which is already answer enough for Jackson. Jackson can see the older boy fighting an internal battle to not just nod and pretend everything’s okay. After a moment he sighs. “Not really.” 

It’s progress, this communicating thing. Maybe Mark isn’t the best with words, but he’s clearly making an effort to tell Jackson when things are hard, to which Jackson is grateful. There’s maybe a little bit of pride- if you could call it that- in it too, because Jackson knows that Mark could tell any one of the other members and they would all help him immediately- but he didn’t. 

He told Jackson. 

Jackson remembers a time when he thought that he wasn’t Mark’s favourite person, that it was one sided. Now… he’s not so sure. 

Jackson comes closer, wrapping a hand loosely around Mark’s bicep. “How bad?”

Mark shrugs. “I feel kinda lightheaded and I just wanna sleep, but I don’t want to worry anyone. I figured it’d be less weird if we both went home?”

He phrases it like a question, like there was even a possibility that Jackson wouldn’t go with him. Jackson is already on his feet, searching around for his jacket. Mark glances at the table and winces, seeing Jackson’s unfinished drink. “Wait, Gaga, no, this was dumb. Stay, please, you haven’t even finished your drink.”

Jackson reaches over and takes his glass, downing the contents in one go. “There we go,” he says, “All finished.”

Mark pokes Jackson roughly. “Jacks you didn’t have to do that. I’m serious, just have a good time and I’ll-”

Jackson cuts him off. “I was kind of tired anyway,” he lies. 

Mark doesn’t completely buy it, but he looks a little less guilty, so Jackson doesn’t hesitate. “Let’s go,” he urges, sticking out a hand to help pull Mark up. They pause for a second once he’s upright, Mark leaning close to Jackson to stay steady. 

After a second Mark nods and Jackson leads the way through the club, stopping when he finds Jaebeom practically grinding against Jinyoung. 

Oh yeah, so that was a _thing_ now. Jinyoung and Jaebeom. It was never said out right, but one day they had all come back to the dorm to find Jinyoung with his tongue down Jaebeom’s throat. Jackson was happy for them, really, because they were perfect for eachother, and other than sometimes walking in on them and getting mildly scarred, it’s been nice to see.

It does make him think more though. 

Korea is not exactly the most accepting.

But here are two of his closest friends, and they’re in a gay relationship, and nobody died. Of course it was kept out of the public eye- only their close friends knowing- but then again that probably would’ve happened even if it was a straight couple, because idol fans can get pretty nasty sometimes.

So, yeah. It’s possible. Jackson could.. hypothetically… if there was ever someone he liked...

“Hey,” Jackson calls over the loud music, resting a hand on Jaebeom’s shoulder. 

Jaebeom tears his eyes away from Jinyoung, grinning. “Jacksonnn, come dance with us,” he slurs, already pretty tispy. Jinyoung nods enthusiastically, running his hands along Jaebeom’s chest. “Come on.”

Jackson snorts. Jinyoung’s _always_ handsy when he’s drunk, and he doesn’t want to stand in their way any longer than he has to.

“Where are the maknaes?” he asks. 

Jinyoung points over to the other end of the dance floor, to where Yugyeom and BamBam are attempting to teach Youngjae the latest dance trend. Jackson spots a drink in BamBam’s hand and his eyes widen. “You’re letting BamBam drink?” he demands incredulously. “They’re all underage you know.”

Jinyoung shoots him a look. “Technically, so am I. And so were you a couple months ago, but that hasn’t stopped us. Beommie and I are watching them, don’t worry.”

Jackson snorts and pats Jinyoung on the shoulder. “It’s not _them_ I’m worried about. Good luck dragging their drunk asses home by yourselves.”

“Ourselves?” Jaebeom repeats. 

Jackson nods. “Yeah. Mark-hyung and I are gonna turn in early.”

Jaebeom frowns. “We just got here. Everything okay?” he asks loudly, eyes raking Jackson up and down, and when he’s satisfied, moving on to the older boy behind him. 

Jackson speaks before Mark has time to come up with some lame excuse. “Just tired,” he says, so casually that even Mark wants to believe him. 

Jaebeom nods, looking at Mark at little longer than normal. He looks like he wants to say something, but then the song is changing and Jinyoung is sliding against him and he pulls Jinyoung closer. “See you back at the dorms,” he calls over his shoulder before running his hand through Jinyoung’s hair.

Mark and Jackson weave their way out of the club before pushing open the heavy back door and stumbling out into the cool night air. 

Mark's breath makes little clouds in the air as he breathes heavily, leaning against the outside wall. 

A hand comes up to rub his back and Jackson asks, voice quiet and free of judgement, “Should we jog a bit? Or do you need to sit down?”

Mark closes his eyes for a second, breathing through his mouth. His jacket is wide open letting all the cold air in, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “No. Just give me a second.”

So Mark sways and breathes against the cold brick wall, and Jackson bites his lip and worries, trying his best to stay calm. 

“Should you get a reading?” Jackson asks. 

Mark’s eyes stay closed as he talks to the ground more than Jackson. “I don’t have my pressure cuff and even if I did I know what it would say.”

He opens his eyes suddenly and pulls away from the wall, starting to walk away. 

“Where are you going?” Jackson calls after him, confused as ever.

Mark looks at him like _he’s_ the crazy one. “To the dorms.” The _duh_ is written all over his expression.

“Walking?” Jackson demands incredulously, “We can get an Uber, you know?”

“Heart rate remember? I can’t sit for that long. And uhm..” Mark winces and looks at his feet. “Sometimes when I get like this I get super nauseous. I don’t want to puke in someone’s car,” he explains with embarrassment.

“So you drag me out of the club early, and now you’re going to make me _walk_ home?” Jackson whines, pouting for effect.

Mark pauses, and for a second Jackson wonders if maybe he’s gone too far, but then Mark throws his head back, high pitched laughter echoing in the empty streets and Jackson laughs with him, pulling the older boy closer by the waist. 

They walk home like that, with Jackson's hand wrapped securely around Mark’s waist, their own little bubble of warmth against the bitter cold night. 

When they get back to the dorm, Mark finally lets himself pause for a second, now that they’re not in public and he doesn’t have to worry about keeping his heart rate up. He claims the bathroom first, taking off his makeup and washing his face. He shuffles back into their room and changes, taking off his skinny jeans. 

Jackson knows it’s not on purpose, that Mark isn’t _trying_ to give him a strip tease, but he kind of is, with the way he peels his shirt off slowly, tossing it to the ground. He spends way too long searching for his pyjamas until Jackson finally tosses him his own sweatshirt (for his own sake, because he doesn’t think it’s healthy for anyone to stare at Mark’s bare chest for that long) and a pair of semi-clean basketball shorts. 

“Thank you,” Mark mumbles from where he’s tucked up under the blankets, “For going home with me.”

And Jackson blinks because Mark’s _home_ has always been LA, and Jackson’s has always been Hong Kong, but maybe, he thinks, home is more about the people than the place. And if so then maybe his mom was right, maybe Mark really did help Jackson find a home here.

Jackson swallows and tries not to think about the little mole on Mark’s chest that he had never noticed until tonight. “Yeah, man.” He hovers, unsure, “Do you need anything?”

“I’m perfect right here,” Mark says, voice unrushed and deliberate. He watches Jackson with slow, sleepy eyes. It feels like he’s asking Jackson to read into his words.

“Good. I’ll just be, you know,” Jackson stutters, and motions off towards the kitchen. It might be the least chill escape of the decade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yup jjp are together and Jackson is having all the feelings.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first midterm is tomorrow and what am I doing? Writing fanfiction... *sigh*

Jackson glances back from the doorway, but Mark is already out, fast asleep the second his head hit the pillow. 

Jackson is still very awake though, unused energy humming under his skin. He decides to clean the dorm while everyone is still out and before he loses every shred of motivation. It’s only after he’s scrubbed the whole kitchen and done two loads of laundry that he finally climbs into bed.

He’s still thinking about Mark. He turns on his side and looks over at the other bed, seeing that Mark is facing him. He’s pretty like this, no hair product or makeup; all fluffy hair and beauty marks. Jackson looks at a mole right above Mark’s lip, and thinks that he’d very much like to lick it, just to see what would happen. 

Fuck. He’s feels like he’s having a second gay panic. 

He had his bisexual freak out in middle school, but it was fine because he knew that meant he could settle down with some nice girl and be happy. And then when he became an idol, there was kind of an unspoken ‘no dating’ rule, because dating was like candy for the press and the company didn’t want any bad publicity. 

Now though, after seeing JJP get together, Jackson isn’t so sure if he can just _settle_ for anyone. Not when his best friend is right here, soft and sleepy, wearing Jackson’s sweater. 

_

When Jackson wakes up, the room is flooded with light. It must be morning already. He glances at the clock and figures he should probably wake Mark up because they do actually have schedules today. 

He’ll just reach over and shake Mark awake, and then Mark will blink up at him with his stupid perfect face and then Jackson could maybe lean over and kiss his stupid perfect lips and-

_Get it together_ , Jackson thinks harshly, giving himself a mental pep talk. _Don’t make this weird, we have places to be and you can’t afford to be awkward with Mark today._

So, with a new resolve, Jackson turns over on his side, mentally repeating over and over again that Mark is his friend, first and foremost.

He’s about to throw a sock or something at Mark to wake him up, and is surprised to find him already sat up in his pile of blankets.

“How’re you doing?” Jackson asks, and barely has to put in any effort to sound casual, like he hadn’t just been thinking about his best friend all night.

“Been better,” Mark laughs, like his condition is just another charmed thing in his existence. 

Jackson can see right through it, though. He can tell he’s doing his best to seem okay, downplaying the obvious way he has to hold his hands against the mattress to ground himself to something that’s not moving.

It’s not the only thing Jackson zeros in on.

The hoodie he leant Mark hangs awkwardly on his thinner frame, the neckline loose and pulled weird over his shoulders, exposing his collarbones. He’s flushed, too, his cheeks hot with a nice pink colour. It looks really nice on him in a debauched, overworked sort of way; like when he comes off stage after a live performance.

Jackson clears his throat and refocuses. “You need help getting up?”

The smile Mark gives him is weak at best. “Maybe. I’m not doing too great,” he admits. He’s talking like he’s out of breath, like sitting up was just as hard as the rigorous workout they had last practice.

“Just take your time,” Jackson insists. His prior problems get overshadowed quickly by the way Mark nods, frantic almost, like he’s scared. Normally he’s the first to crack a joke about his episodes. It’s his fear that makes Jackson’s own unease flare up.

“I’m really dizzy, I think I should go see Chiwon-hyung,” Mark says, and Jackson throws off his own covers, getting close enough to really see him in the dim light of their bedroom. It’s not good.

The flush that seconds ago looked healthy on him now looks feverish. Even his arms are shaking with exhaustion, just from holding himself up. His eyes are no better, dizzily trying to focus on one thing at a time. He doesn't even dare look up at Jackson, who can't stop shifting from foot to foot, nervously.

If Mark passes out here, Jackson doesnt know what he’d do, but at least it’d be better than Mark trying to go to the company building, alone, with no one to help him or ease his way to the ground. 

“Don’t go, you can’t be alone right now.”

Near instantly, Jackson can tell that his words rubbed Mark the wrong way. Mark straightens up from his nest of blankets, ready to argue, even though it looks like it physically pains him.

Worryingly, he’s stubborn enough to try to stand. “You don’t have to take care of me, I’ll be fine,” he says, but it’s in English, and Jackson’s worry doubles. 

Despite the knowing nature of his words, Mark makes it two steps out of bed towards Jackson and then goes boneless right into the younger boy’s arms. Jackson falters under the added weight, cradling Mark’s head closer.

“Hyung?” Jackson asks, even as he can feel Mark’s even, sedated breaths against his collar. 

Predictably, there’s no reply.

“Okay,” he says like a sigh, to no one in particular. He’s stuck holding one hundred some odd pounds of his best friend with no idea what to do. “This is great.”

He figures he can't just stand there forever, so he sweeps Mark up completely, feeling ridiculous as he holds his passed-out friend in a bridal carry in the middle of their room. 

He looks between Mark’s bed and his own, and eventually decides on his own, just because the sheets aren’t as tangled up. He gently slips Mark in between the covers.

When he pulls back, he can't help but feed his prior problem, letting his eyes feast on the sight of Mark’s messy hair and flushed cheek smushed into his pillow.

After a minute, it feels too weird to stand vigil, so Jackson texts Chiwon instead, letting him know Mark passed out and asking if there’s anything he needs to do or watch out for.

He thought when this moment came- because he always knew it would- that he’d be more scared. Instead he feels prepared, calm even, at the view of Mark buried in his blankets. At least while he’s passed out he’s staying here, where Jackson can keep an eye on him.

Chiwon’s response intrudes on his moment. It’s a list of instructions, time restraints, and numbers to call in case of emergency. It’s as unsettling as it is helpful.

One looks down at Mark, and Jackson knows he’s in for a day of babysitting. “If you stop breathing, I’ll kill you,” he warns.

Seemingly in answer, Mark puffs out a heavy breath, then another, and Jackson finally lets himself back out of the room slowly, watching Mark’s chest rise and fall until he gets as far as he can go down the hall without losing sight of him.

“Be okay for ten seconds,” he begs under his breath, and then dashes into 2Jae’s room, shaking Jaebeom roughly. 

The leader groans and blinks an eye open. “The fuck Jackson, my alarm didn’t even go off yet.”

Jackson doesn’t even feel sorry, despite how hungover JB must be from the club last night. “I know, but Mark-hyung passed out.”

Jaebeom is more alert in an instant. “Damn,” he curses loudly. Youngjae is peacefully unaware from the next bed, although he sleeps like the dead so Jackson isn’t surprised.

“You go back, I’ll call management,” Jaebeom assures him, already getting up and wiping sleep from his eyes.

Thankfully, when Jackson vaults back into their bedroom after getting a glass of water from the kitchen, Mark is just as unconscious as he was when Jackson left him.

The instructions Chiwon gave him were specific enough that he leaves the water he got on his nightstand, and digs around in Mark’s side of the room before retrieving some smelling salts and Mark’s pressure cuff. 

He slips the pressure cuff on Mark’s arm and waits for the beep, noting the two numbers that are much lower than he’d like, but good, considering the situation. A minute later, he remembers to set a timer on his phone.

Okay. He breathes easy, decides to sit on the edge of the bed, and doesn't let his thoughts venture into ‘what do I do if..’ territory.

The first alarm he set goes off after what feels like hours of watching Mark puff out breaths of air into his pillow. Two minutes later, Yugyeom comes crashing into the room. “Oh my god,” he exclaims, eyes widening at the sight of Mark, “Jaebeom-hyung told me. He’s okay, right?”

Jackson goes over and ruffles Yugyeom’s hair. “I texted Chiwon-hyung, and so far things are looking good. He’s gonna be fine.”

Yugyeom crosses his arms like he doesn’t quite believe him. “I’m staying.”

Jinyoung appears in the room now, shooting Jackson a sympathetic smile before cupping Yugyeom’s neck. “Mark-hyung probably doesn’t want everyone staring at him when he comes to. Why don’t you go take a shower before BamBam steals all the hot water?” he suggests, his voice soothing. “We can let Jackson-hyung look after Mark-hyung.”

Yugyeom scrunches up his nose, but reluctantly lets Jinyoung guide him out. 

Mark rolls closer to the edge of the bed, his eyes starting to dance behind his eyelids. Jackson looks away from him when he hears Jaebeom’s voice. 

“I let everyone know, and Mark-hyung has the day off.” 

Jackson opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but Jaebeom beats him to it. “You too, Jacks, I told them that someone had to stay and take care of him and they all understood.”

Jackson nods, thanking him, but now that that’s out of the way, his eyes keep drifting back to Mark. Jaebeom smiles like he knows more than he’s letting on. He claps Jackson on the shoulder before heading out of the room, “Call me later with updates.”

Jackson re-reads Chiwon’s text ten times over, always stopping between sentences to glance up to check on the rise and fall of Mark’s chest.

On the eleventh read, Mark’s eyes finally flutter open. He looks from the ceiling to the window and back again before his eyes fall on Jackson.

“Hi,” he says sleepily, and closes his eyes like he’s going to pass right back out. Jackson’s at attention in a heartbeat.

“Hyung, no, don’t go to sleep,” he calls, and shakes his shoulder gently. Nothing Chiwon wrote told him what to do with Mark if he was already tired beforehand. Does he just let him go back to bed?

“Can you wake up for a second, please?”

Mark shakes his head no, pulling Jackson’s comforter tighter around his shoulders.

“I’ll let you go back to sleep right after, alright?” he tries. Mark at least speaks this time, grumbling out a ‘no’ that’s half obscured by the pillow he’s pressed his face into.

“Yien, come on, I’m worried here.” The honesty or the anxiousness, Jackson can't tell which, wins Mark over.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he protests, and at least opens his eyes again. It’s probably a good sign that he’s with it enough to be annoyed.

“Are you okay?” Jackson asks and gets up, back on his feet, in case he needs anything.

His eyes settle back on Mark just in time to see him stiffen, then roll around so that he’s back to facing where Jackson’s been standing vigil at his bedside. He’s wearing a pained grimace, like he can’t believe what happened.

“I passed out,” he says first, realization stark over his face. Jackson doesnt know if it’s a bad sign that he seemingly didn’t remember that until now.

“Yeah,” Jackson confirms, “right into my arms like an overdramatic princess.”

“Oh my god,” Mark groans, and buries his head in the blankets in embarrassment, “Jackson, I’m-”

Jackson cuts him off before he can start apologizing, his hands gently pulling the blankets down so Mark can breathe. “My bed was closer, I hope that’s alright.”

The glare he gets is spectacular. It’s enough to bring Jackson’s racing heart to a calmer rhythm, his body finally relaxing, accepting that Mark is okay.

“Shut up, your bed is amazing,” Mark grumbles, digging himself deeper into the blankets and managing to look even more annoyed with himself because of it.

“Take all the blankets you want, just make sure you have enough air,” Jackson teases him. Even though it’s mostly a joke, he’s still worried enough to tug the top of his comforter down an inch, away from Mark’s mouth and nose.

“No, let me die,” Mark whines dramatically, “this is so fucking embarrassing.” He fights Jackson weakly for the blankets, but Jackson wins out. Just to be an ass, he makes sure each layer of bedding is tucked snug around Mark’s shoulders before he teases him. “That better?”

Mark rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I guess breathing’s cool, if you’re into that.”

Jackson very carefully doesn't look at the pale column of Mark’s throat as the older boy swallows.

It’s a battle. Jackson coughs, pats down the blankets awkwardly and forces himself to stand up, trying not to hesitate. “Really, do you need anything? Are you okay?”

“God, don’t do that worried thing,” Mark complains and nearly gets the blankets back over his head.

Jackson very harshly pulls them back down. “Then stop trying to suffocate yourself.”

“I can suffocate if I want to,” Mark argues, and really puts some back into his fight for the blankets.

It’s not even a struggle for Jackson. He very pointedly tugs them away and re-tucks them, daring Mark with a set of spectacularly furrowed eyebrows to pull them back up again.

It takes a second of staring before Mark gives in with a sheepish smile, his hands raising in surrender.

The truce doesn’t last much longer, Mark’s easy grin and playful mood is gone a second after, like he can't physically keep up appearances right now while still getting his body back on track. 

“Really, Jackson this is embarrassing, I’m-” Jackson doesn't want to hear another apology for something Mark shouldn’t have to apologize for in the first place.

“I’d rather you just said thank you, instead of sorry.” He tries to sound teasing, but he doesn’t think it comes off as casual.

He at least succeeds in one thing: his words turn Mark’s flush back to a healthy hue.

“Thanks, Gaga,” Mark says, quiet.

The atmosphere is suddenly awkward, but Jackson’s good at things like this, bringing the mood up.

“That’s better,” he teases. “I’m a hometown hero and all, it’s no big. Just something I do- saving people, solving crime, it's in the blood .”

Mark’s groaning laugh as he tries to smother himself with Jackson’s pillow is a pretty good ice breaker.

“We just talked about this,” Jackson argues in jest and forces Mark to roll over onto his back so that he can breathe easier.

Mark’s smile is wicked. “Sorry, I only agreed to breathe for you because I didn’t know you were one of _those_ people,” he chirps right back.

Jackson tries to play up how offended he is just to get Mark going and it’s honestly not hard. Mark clearly isn’t a fan of the Chinese drama _Detective,_ if his reaction to its tagline is this intense, but Jackson’s extremely biased here. Zhao Hongfei single-handedly awoke his bisexuality. It’s a big deal, practically a defining part of his teenage years.

“I’ll have you know those people are people with good taste,” he fires back. It’s easy to fall into this routine, making himself comfortable at the foot of his bed while him and Mark mercilessly push at each other’s buttons.

It takes a while for them to settle down, but once they have, Jackson ends up with the remote for once. Because he can and he knows it’ll annoy Mark, he puts on the first episode of _Detective_.

Mark raises an eyebrow, “Don’t we have schedules today?”

Jackosn squints at him. “Don’t be crazy, I told Jaebeom-hyung and he got us off for the day.”

Mark groans again. “Fuck,” he swears, loud and in Mandarin. “I take it all the members know then?”

Jackson nods. “Yeah. You’ll probably be spammed with calls and texts anytime now, they only left like ten minutes ago.”

Mark squeezes his eyes closed. “Do you think if I wish hard enough I can make this all go away?”

Jackson knows it’s a joke, but there’s something so sad about it, so resigned, that it makes his insides hurt. He climbs into bed beside Mark, and clings on to him.

Mark doesn't even complain, just huffs out a laugh that gets buried in Jackson’s chest instead.

So maybe they’re snuggled up in his bed, but it’s just bros. He’s just making sure Mark is feeling okay. It would be neglectful to leave him alone so soon after he’s lost consciousness.

“This is the best part,” Jackson whispers in anticipation, when Shang is just confronting a criminal while Zhao is on lookout.

He can feel Mark’s eyes roll. “This show sucks,” he whines. It’s just bratty enough to have Jackson retaliate. The arm he has around Mark makes it painfully easy to tug Mark the rest of the way onto him, his other arm coming up to wrap tightly around his shoulders. “Take it back,” he demands, and shakes Mark gently, throwing his weight from side to side, batting him around like you would a playful puppy.

The giggles bubbling out of Mark turn into a string of pleas, “Okay, I’ll watch, I’ll watch. Jackson, please. I’ll watch. It’s a great show, I love it.”

“Will you stop with the attitude?” Jackson teases and momentarily stops pushing Mark around.

Breathless, Mark props himself up, settling even more of his weight on Jackson as he stares him down. He pretends to think about, and Jackson, threateningly, wraps his arms back around him.

They’re a frantic scramble of limbs until Mark pins him, relenting with a “Fine,” even though he has the upper hand. Jackson’s wrists are held tight in Mark’s hands, pinned next to his head against the bedsprings.

They’re both panting, smiles dopey over their faces. It goes on a second too long, like all their looks seem to do lately, and Jackson hates himself for not putting a stop to this.

Mark must feel the change in the tension radiating from under him, because he glances down at where he’s straddling Jackson, then carefully releases his wrists, like he’s just realized what they’ve been doing.

Jackson lets his arms go back to his sides, careful not to let them go up to Mark’s hips to steady him. It’s then that he realizes he’s too far gone to be the one to pull himself back mentally or physically; he lets Mark slowly climb off his lap and settle, cross-legged next to him.

“Sorry,” Mark says, not looking at Jackson, as if he’s the one with the decidedly not-bro feelings.

“I thought we talked about the whole you not saying ‘sorry’ anymore thing,” Jackson blurts out, as if that’s the glaringly important issue here.

Mark brushes over it. “I have something to be sorry for though,” he admits, “I shouldn’t put you in a position like that.”

Jackson’s mind boggles, trying to wrap his head around a world where Mark doesn’t think Jackson would soak up every ounce of affection he gives like a pathetic cactus under the first rain after a drought.

“I pulled you on top of me, man,” he says carefully, cause honestly he’s not sure if throwing himself under the bus is the best method, here.

“I pinned you,” Mark says.

And just like that they’re fighting to take the blame, a weird game of ‘I touched you first! No, I liked it first!’ and Jackson’s starting to realize they might be saying the same thing, just differently.

“In case it was unclear, I didn’t mind you on top of me,” he says, and Mark freezes, mouth hanging open in a way that would be unattractive if Jackson could take just one second to stop staring at his lips.

“Oh,” he says, when he realizes Jackson’s waiting for a response. “You should know though I’m not- well, I’m not gay.”

So, that’s about how Jackson’s day is going.

He tries not to let his shoulder’s fall or heart burst pitifully out of his chest like it wants to. Anything to keep his physical reaction in check will do, so he buries his nails in his palms and breathes. It’s easy.

“I’m not either,” he says, because even if it’s not completely true, it’s half true. He still likes girls, alright? It’s not a lie. He very specifically enjoys his bisexual label. It’s saved his ass more than once to be able to kiss girls whenever guys on his old fencing team got too suspicious.

“Okay…” Mark says, slow, like he’s been thrown off track, like he doesn't know where the conversation is going anymore; and well, hey, at least that makes two of them.

Jackson goes for the retreat before he can inevitably open up his big mouth and make things worse.

“Anyway, you should probably get some sleep,” Jackson says, and starts pushing himself off the bed. “There’s water on the nightstand and I got your meds from your bag.”

He hovers awkwardly at the foot of the bed for a moment, his hands stuffed in his sweatpants pockets.

“You’re not staying?” Mark asks, his head tilted to the side like he’s confused why Jackson wouldn’t share a bed with him after what just happened.

It’s like they’re playing charades with a somehow physical language barrier. It’s more tiring than anything.

“I feel like we’re not on the same page here,” Jackson admits to him, motioning uselessly between them like it’ll magically make the tension between them tangible.

Mark is quiet for a second, and Jackson can see the wheels spinning in his head, thinking over his next words. He shakes his head slightly at himself, like he’s decided not to speak, but then his jaw clenches and he says impulsively, “If you’re so straight why can't we share a bed?”

And now Jackson’s mouth is the one left hanging open.

“I’m- I’m really lost right now, with what’s happening here,” Jackson finds the mind to confess. He’s pretty sure Mark turned him down, but as each second passes he’s starting to feel like the air hasn’t been cleared on both ends.

“I’m not gay,” Mark repeats, and Jackson finally lets some emotion slip through, his nails leaving their piercing hold on his palms.

“Thanks for fucking repeating it, man. I didn’t hear you the first time.” It’s sarcastic and rude, and Mark doesn't deserve it. But Jackson is already on a roll and his mouth moves faster than his brain. “I’m so sorry that you feel the need to reassure yourself on your heterosexuality but-”

“I’m pansexual,” Mark blurts out, and whatever Jackson was going to say dies spectacularly in his throat.

“I’m sorry, what?” He coughs out. His past sexuality-crisis-fueled googling was limited to exactly two sexualities. He has absolutely no idea what Mark just said. “Are you attracted to like-”

Before his presumed words can tarnish the air, Mark cuts him off. “If you say cooking ware I swear to god, Jackson, I’m walking out the door.”

It surprises a high pitched laugh out of him in the middle of an unusually intense moment between them. Jackson’s chest heaves from laughter as much as relief from the break in the room’s atmosphere as he falls back onto the foot of the bed. “Hyung, what the hell, no, I’m not that stupid,” he defends, even though they’ve both met some guys that have miscalculated one too many flips.

It’s enough to bring them back to them, easy soft smiles and conversation back in play. “I was going to ask if you were attracted to guys, Mark.”

It’s the epitome of their friendship, their knees brushing while admitting things they’ve never told anyone.

“It means I don’t care about sex or gender, I just like who I like,” Mark tells him softly.

It’s like Jackson’s world opens up in response to Mark, grass peaking through pounds of snow that have sat heavy on his chest for months. The ice age is over, warmth spreading like wildflowers.

“I’m not gay,” he tells Mark. His smile is so big that it hurts the corners of his lips. “I’m just really fucking bisexual.”

The look they share is disgustingly sappy, even by their standards.

“I like you,” Mark confesses, because he’s done with miscommunications, “I have for awhile now.”

The huge grin and laugh combo that he’s rewarded with nearly takes his breath away. 

“Oh dude,” Jackson snorts, “have I got news for you.”

Mark honestly doesn't know what more they could have to confess to one another.

“Remember our first concert in Japan?” Jackson asks.

Mark nods.

“And you sat next to me on the plane on the way there?”

Vaguely, Mark remembers Jackson shaking, pale and sweating, as the plane took off. He was a complete mess of nerves. Not because of their upcoming performance, but because he hated flying.

“You looked like you needed someone to distract you,” Mark recalls.

“You talked for hours,” Jackson tells him and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “You barely talked to anyone at that point, but you talked to me.” 

Mark wraps their fingers together, lets them rest against his thigh. “I was nervous too,” he admits. It had been a weird time for him, he always felt like he had something to prove.

“I was so gone on you,” Jackson smiles, wistful, “you were so uncomfortable, talking, trying to be yourself and who we expected all at once. But you kept talking the whole time just to keep me calm.”

Mark never realized it meant so much to Jackson. After the plane ride all he remembers doing is grabbing his carry on and heading off to the hotel, excitement and anxiety all at once making his own hands shake.

He remembers getting to the lobby and seeing Jackson teasing Yugyeom, his ever-permanent smile back on his face where it belonged. It felt reassuring, to see him like that. Jackson had waved to him, something short and sweet that Mark remembers having smiled at.

After, when they were pushed into a dressing room, and shoved into stage clothes, Mark’s hands were steady again and he never questioned why.

He can’t believe they had both been so blind. Jackson, even, whose eyes are always so open, honest, and searching, like they are now, hadn’t seen what was waiting right in front of him.

“Can I kiss you?” Jackson asks, breathless.

In a heartbeat of excitement, Mark pushes up to his knees, his hands falling on Jackson’s shoulders as he scoots closer.

Neither of them are expecting the way he trips forward, his grip on Jackson tightening as he loses his vision and his head swims.

It feels like second nature for Jackson to pull him closer, to press waiting kisses into his hair as Mark breathes through the dizziness.

He’s disgustingly fond of him. “Too much excitement in one day, huh?” Jackson teases.

“Yah,” Mark chirps back, and lets Jackson hold him in a sitting position so he can swallow down the medicine on the nightstand.

When he’s done, Jackson lowers Mark back down so he’s lying flat. He’s careful to tuck the blankets perfectly around him, a joke just as much as a gesture of care. He smooths them out after.

“Going to sleep with me, Gaga?” Mark asks, even though his eyes are already drooping.

“Yeah,” Jackson promises. “Kiss me when you wake up, okay?”

Mark happily hums his agreement, dropping easily into sleep from the exhaustion his condition causes.

Jackson has a much harder time losing consciousness. He can barely believe that Mark likes him back. It feels just as unreal, just as daydream-ish as that first time Mark had ended up in the hospital. This time though, Jackson prays that if it’s a dream, he sleeps in it forever.

Everything he never thought he could have, it’s here, waiting, for _him._

Just because he can, Jackson wraps an arm around Mark’s waist, tugs him closer, and waits for sleep to take him into dreams that he knows could never shine as bright as the reality he has now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m going to end this here but I might continue on and make this a series?? Because I ended this in late 2014 which still means that there’s many years to go through. This story is giving me writer's block though so I’m going to write some other stuff and pick this back up later.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you liked, and if you want me to write more in the future. I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/demontuan)


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